Duty Bound
by Richefic
Summary: When an undercover mission goes wrong for Gibbs and DiNozzo, the exMarine is duty bound to make a choice. But will either man be able to live with the consequences of his decision? Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - If they were mine, season 4 would have ended rather differently.

* * *

Inside Alexi Romanov's mansion, with its manicured lawns, well tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges, the party was in full swing, as glamorous guests in black tie danced to the live band on the patio, small groups talked in self important huddles in the library, while others grazed the food and admired the ice sculpture in the adjoining dining room. Outside, monitoring proceedings from the car, Gibbs watched as McGee caught another of the guests in his concealed camera and waited as MTAC fed the image through its facial recognition software.

"No match."

Moving through the crowd, McGee locked on another target, a tall, willowy, blonde, in animated conversation with DiNozzo, who had immersed himself in his undercover persona with his usual dedication. Anton DeMarco, international security consultant wore his hair slightly spiked, with a small diamond stud in his left ear. His jacket was open and his collar rakishly askew, just enough to show the small, black, tattoo, inked at the base of his neck and a hint of the shoulder holster, housing his sidearm. As the woman spoke, he laughed, his white teeth gleaming in the night as his eyes sparkled with amusement. Through his earpiece Gibbs wasn't entirely surprised to hear the Director's slightly reproving tone.

"DiNozzo certainly looks as if he's enjoying himself. That had better be ginger beer in his glass."

"Positive Identification," The MTAC technician cut in. "Elizabeth Feliciano, wife of the Chicago arms dealer."

"DiNozzo's a professional, Jen. He knows what he's doing. He'll probably sweet talk her into giving him a good deal on a consignment of Sig Saurs."

As McGee continued to sweep the room, Gibbs watched with half an eye as Tony deftly moved on from Elizabeth, pressing the flesh and playing the crowd with the kind of deft and skilful touch he could only have learned at his father's innumerable business functions. He smiled when he heard his senior field Agent murmur in his ear.

"I got us a lead on an F15, if you're interested. I hear they're on special this week."

"I'll bring it up at our next budget meeting," Gibbs deadpanned. "Anything else?"

"If the guests know anything about a terrorist plot to blow up a Navy ship, they're not talking," Tony sounded like he was frowning. "Why does it always have to be a ship?"

"Because they make good targets."

"There is that," DiNozzo agreed. "Did you know the daughter's here?"

Gibbs sat up a little straighter.

"Are you sure it's her?" Shepherd cut in. "She hasn't shown up on the surveillance. Wasn't she supposed to be in Aspen this week?"

"It's her," Tony retorted, sotto voice. "Right now, she's busy having sex with one of the security guards in the pool house. He told her he was ex-special forces. She fell for it. I helped her carry over a crate of champagne and two of the lobster. I think it's her idea of payback. She's mad as hell that step-sugar-daddy made her change her plans."

"Step-sugar-daddy?" Gibbs queried.

"He's married to her Mother, a good couple of decades older than her and she's sleeping with him, what would you call him?"

"He say why she had to change her plans?"

"She doesn't know, but she thinks it has something to do with his business partner arriving in town unexpectedly." Tony said meaningfully.

"Business partner?" Nothing in their investigation so far had suggested that Alexi Romanov was anything other than a self-made man. If the importer had a business partner then he was very silent indeed and quite possibly very deadly. "Has she seen this guy?"

"You wouldn't expect anything we do to be that easy would you? Besides, it's all about the thrill of the chase," DiNozzo paused, reflecting. "That and saving countless lives."

Gibbs shook his head slightly as he smiled. DiNozzo might play up the glamorous side of undercover operations, the tuxedoes, the cars, the women. But they both knew that what really drove him was the thrill of fitting another piece in the puzzle. And he'd dress up like a hobo if that's what it took to close a case. He was just about to send him to try his charms on Mrs Romanov, when he realised McGee, in his waiter's outfit and carrying a silver tray, had paused at Tony's elbow.

"Caviar, sir?"

Never one to refuse free food, DiNozzo dug in, scooping up three of the little crackers, making a blissful face as he chewed with obvious relish.

"This is a pretty fancy place for a food importer." The junior agent observed softly.

"You forget the nice little sideline in AK-47s," Tony murmured, without looking at him. "Besides, this isn't just food, its top grade Russian caviar, food of the gods."

I thought that was Ambrosia?"

Ziva dressed in the black pants and white shirt that allowed her to pass as a member of the catering crew, came up behind them, causing DiNozzo to raise a brow.

"You'd never heard of Chuck E Cheese, but you know what Ambrosia is?"

"It's called culture."

"Officer David," Gibbs intervened, before Shepherd could reprimand his team. "Did you find anything?"

"There was nothing in the study," Ziva sounded frustrated. "Even the safe was empty."

"The Library was clear too," McGee agreed. "Maybe the Intel was bad."

After almost a week without so much as a sniff of a lead, Gibbs had begun to wonder the same thing, they had already come up empty handed at the company's warehouses at the docks, but the information that the company was being used as a front for a bomb plot had come from a reliable source, and it wasn't the type of threat they could easily ignore. He needed to be absolutely certain before they pulled the plug.

"You want to be the one to tell Sec Nav we don't _think _there's plot. McGee?"

"Ziva, did you say the safe was empty?" Tony asked. "There wasn't anything in it?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"Because we've been looking in the wrong places, that's why."

Already he was moving, slipping through the party crowd with as much haste as he could muster without attracting attention, as Ziva and McGee stood, exchanging confused looks.

"Go with him." Gibbs ordered sharply.

McGee took up a position at the foot of the stairs, as Ziva hurried to catch up with Tony. He was making his way down the hallway, checking each bedroom as he passed, until he came to what was obviously the pink and purple domain of the daughter. Pulling a drawer from the dresser he revealed skimpy tops and even skimpier underwear.

"Tony, what are you doing?" They all heard Ziva hiss. "Gibbs is going to kill you."

"Where's the last place in this house, anyone would look for super secret documents?" Tony asked, even as he searched. "Didn't you father even hide his Mossard stuff under your bed, when you were a child?"

"No." Ziva frowned. "Never."

There was a pause and Gibbs could imagine Tony sitting back on his haunches as he made eye contact with her.

"Then maybe he loves you more than you think,"

There was a moment of silence and then DiNozzo was all business again. "Check the bureau. Look for a hidden panel or something."

For a few minutes all Gibbs could hear was movement, as they searched in and around the bedroom, pulling up the rug to check the floorboards, moving furniture and belongings. Just when he was beginning to give up hope, Ziva's voice came through.

"I have something."

"Open it." Tony ordered.

"It has an alarm. I'd need to cut off the main power supply in order to de-activate it."

"We don't have time for that," Shepherd decreed. "Just open it."

Ziva made short work of the lock on the hidden panel, although cracking the safe behind took a little longer. As she pulled out money, jewellery and correspondence, and began cataloguing each letter orally for Gibbs and Shepherd's benefit, Tony grabbed a small stack of manila folders and began reading aloud, both hoping against hope that they would find what they needed before their time ran out.

"Hey, that is a private area it's off limits to guests."

The shouted warning, attracted Gibbs attention to the scene at the foot of the stairs, where two men in dark suits were trying to get past McGee without causing too much of a commotion.

"Stall 'em, McGee!"

"Got it!" Tony's voice was triumphant. "The target is a destroyer in the Atlantic fleet. No name but its scheduled to deploy .."

His words by abruptly cut off as the door opened, there was a muffled sound and then the unmistakable impact of an inert body hitting the floor. Gibbs was already moving out of the car and across the lawn, when the second body hit the ground. Shepherd's anxious queries barely registered over the pounding of the blood in his ears and the dreadful tightness in his chest. Dispensing with finesse, he barged into the house, weapon drawn, speeding past McGee who was being restrained by one of the goons, as he made made a beeline for the open doorway.

He wasn't prepared for what he saw.

Ziva was lying on her side, the slow rise and fall of her chest, confirming that she was merely unconscious. Stepping warily into the room, Gibbs checked that it was clear, before moving over and locating the small, feathered, tranquiliser dart in her neck. The jewels, money, and piles of correspondence, lay where they had fallen. But the small stack of manila folders had vanished.

Along with DiNozzo.

"McGee, call an Ambulance, get some back up, and secure the building."

"Um, Boss, I can't exactly ..."

"McGee, Ziva is unconscious and Tony is missing. Tell then you're a Federal Agent and if they give you any trouble, shoot 'em."

Knowing they hadn't had time to take him through the house, Gibbs was already checking the open window, but there were no footprints or other disturbance in the soft, damp, earth below. Moving quickly, slipped through the communicating door to the adjacent room. Glancing up at the panel in the ceiling he hopped onto the chaise lounge immediately beneath it, saying a silent prayer of thanks as the access panel gave easily under his hands. Once up in the crawl space it was easy to see the fresh marks in the dust. With luck, having to manoeuvre Tony's inert body would ensure that they hadn't gotten too far ahead of him.

He need not have worried.

As he rounded the first corner, he heard a soft sound and felt a sudden sting in his neck, just before everything went completely black.


	2. Chapter 2

Awareness returned slowly. At first, all DiNozzo noticed was the mind numbing cold, then the hard, unyieldingness of the floor, his dress shirt and pants providing little protection against either. His jacket was gone, along with his gun. He had socks but apparently no shoes. And he was sporting various bruises and abrasions, like he'd been dragged. No bullet holes. Just a pain in his neck, like he'd been bitten by a bug or …

Memory returned in a rush.

_Ziva _

Gingerly, he raised his head slightly and scanned the surrounding area. He was in some sort of unfurnished, basement; room, dimly lit by a single bulb. A red plastic bucket stood in one corner and a couple of cardboard boxes of water and MREs were stacked on top of a workbench against the far wall. No windows and no door, just a trap door in the ceiling and at the edge of his vision, an unfamiliar pair of black Gucci shoes.

"You know," He coughed, over his dry throat. "White socks are really not a good look with those."

"Up."

Tony rolled onto his knees, enough that it was not outright disobedience, not enough to suggest that he would be easily cowed and looked up. The first thing he saw was the barrel of the gun, then the thin, weasel looking man who held it. Probably not the brains of the operation and, judging by the lack of muscles under his jacket, not the brawn either.

"Where's my partner?"

The force of the blow across his mouth was enough to snap his head back, the heavy, gold ring on weasel's right hand, splitting his lip, so that bright, red, blood splattered across his shirt. Tony took a moment to gather himself and lick the blood away before he tried to speak.

"Nice," He managed finally, nodding at the ring. "Decorative and functional."

"Up."

Deciding being upright might give him some advantage, Tony clambered to his feet, shaking his head slightly to try and clear away the lingering effects of whatever it was they had drugged him with. From eye level he could see that the weasal was wearing an ear wick and he'd bet his paycheck there was a hidden camera somewhere around as well. He sighed. In the Bond movies the hero _always_ had all the best gadgets.

"You going to take me to your leader?"

This time Tony was expecting the blow; ducking under the raised fist, he slammed his head into the weasel's stomach, propelling him across the room, until they hit the wall, winding the goon with the force of their impact. With a vicious snarl, he slammed weasal's gun hand into the wall, hearing the fine bones crush under the impact and ignoring the howl of pain, to hold the newly accquired gun to the weasel's throat.

"You should have listened when I asked nicely. Now, where's my partner?"

"This is a mistake," the younger man spat. "Do you not know who you are dealing with?"

"As a matter of fact, I don't," Tony retorted. "Care to enlighten me?"

He didn't react as the younger man's eyes slid sideways and upwards, looking over his shoulder at someone who had appeared at the top of the stairs. Although, the cold, measured, tones, which spoke of a ruthless man used to getting his own way, did make his gut clench.

"My name is Ivan Petrovich. And you will step back, Special Agent DiNozzo."

"I don't think so," Tony answered more confidently than he felt. The only Ivan Petrovich he knew was an infamous Russian Mafia Boss, if they were one in the same then he was as good as dead. "You're going to kill me eventually anyway, the way I see it, this is a win win situation, you don't get any information out of me and I get to take your boy here down with me. What is he? Son? Nephew? Cousin?"

"Very good," Petrovich sounded genuinely impressed. "Tell me, how did you know that Sergi and I were related?"

"He's wearing a very expensive suit."

"Ah, you are most observant," He could imagine Petrovich nodding sagely. No operation, no matter how profitable, would pay a mere henchmen that well. "Still, perhaps you should step back?"

Something about his tone made the hairs on the back of Tony's neck stand up. Forcing a neutral note into his voice he spoke up without turning his head.

"Ziva?"

"Ziva's fine, DiNozzo," Gibbs answered, as calmly as if he was in the office. "Quit worrying."

"Hey, Boss," Tony knew he didn't sound quite as casual as the ex-Marine, Ziva and McGee were good but, if he had to be kidnapped, there was no one he would rather have on his trail than Gibbs. Still, he liked to think he covered well enough. "Did you bring Pizza?"

"Enough games!" Petrovich snapped, as he came down the stairs. "You will release, Sergi and drop the weapon or your Boss here will die."

Tony had no doubt that he meant it. He shrugged slightly sheepishly, as he complied, smiling at the younger man, who gave him a murderous glance, before nursing his injured hand.

"Can't blame a guy for trying. No hard feelings?"

He didn't even attempt to duck the fist, which connected with his jaw, knowing that to resist would most likely only invite further punishment. A vicious kick to his groin, sent him gasping to all fours, followed by a swift kick in his ribs. Through a haze of red, he heard Gibbs say something in Russian.

"Enough." Petrovich ordered.

Tony panted slightly through the pain, before looking up in some surprise. He hadn't expected Sergi's retribution to be over so quickly, and neither had the younger man, if the mutinous look in his eyes was anything to go by, but a glare from his uncle forced him to step back.

"Not allowed to hurt the merchandise without permission, huh?" Tony goaded slightly.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs spoke, not unkindly. "Shut the hell up."

Tony watched as Petrovich motioned with his hand and Gibbs, still handcuffed and with a gun to his head, was marched down the stairs by two thick set men to join them

"Tell me, Special Agent Gibbs," Petrovich sounded like he was at an Embassy Garden party. "What are the penalties in your country for the harassment of a legitimate business man?"

"Drugging and kidnapping two Federal Agents is hardly the action of a legitimate business man." Gibbs retorted.

"You were trespassing on my property," Petrovich shrugged without apology. "One can never be too careful with security. I have many priceless items on my estate."

"Do you just routinely tranquilise all callers?" Tony demanded. "The pool man, the Avon lady, girl scouts selling cookies?"

"Not at all, Special Agent DiNozzo. Only those who interfere in things which are no business of theirs."

"Maintaining national security is our business," Gibbs rebutted. "If your import business is strictly caviar and vodka, then why aren't you trading under your own name?"

"Tax reasons. It is a perfectly legitimate trading device."

"It's also a perfectly good cover for a fledgling terrorist organisation," Tony challenged. "You take all the profits and if you get caught, some clueless suit takes the fall for you."

"Perhaps, that is how your father operates," Petrovich raised a brow. "Although, how would you know, since as I understand it, he has washed his hands of you?"

"DiNozzo Enterprises provides a livelihood for thousands of families," Gibbs cut in, before Tony could react to the barb. "Its welfare programme is one of the best in the state. David DiNozzo may not win any awards as father of the year, but he's an honest businessman, who achieved his success through hard work and personal sacrifice, not by building on the pain and misery of others by trading in illegal arms."

"Indeed," Petrovich murmured and Tony had the dreadful feeling that they had somehow been manipulated and had failed to spot it. "Except, we all know that NCIS would not be interested in a simple case of arms dealing. So, I ask you, what else do you know?"

"Is there something else?" Gibbs asked urbanely.

"You are going to be stubborn. I was afraid of that. Still, I am also prepared for it."

"You gonna try and beat it out of me?" Gibbs actually managed to look amused. "Didn't work so well the last time."

"Do you think I am a fool?" Petrovich shook his head. "A man like you, I could torture to death, and you would never tell me what I need. But I wonder how long you can stand by and watch as DiNozzo suffers?"

Gibbs kept his face expressionless. To show that he cared about Tony would only encourage Petrovich to harm him. But to act as if he was indifferent might convince the mafia boss there was no mileage in keeping the younger man alive and seal Tony's fate.

"DiNozzo's a Federal Agent. He knows the risks. I trained him myself."

"Really?" Petrovich raised a brow. "I wonder if you will be so sanguine when you have to see him writhe in agony these many hours? Carlos, restrain Special Agent DiNozzo."

Tony forced himself to remain calm as one of the thick set men came over and cuffed his hands behind his back, before wrapping an arm around his neck and putting uncomfortable pressure on his windpipe. Whatever they were about to do to him, he was determined to make Gibbs proud of him.

"I have heard famous tales of the heroism of American Marines," Petrovich was talking. "Of how you can crawl through a desert with both legs broken, I also know that there is a code of honour which says you cannot leave a man behind." At a nod from his Boss, Carlos produced a large syringe, which he plunged through DiNozzo's shirt, and into his arm. In spite of himself, Tony winced at the impact. "That drug is a complex chemical compound," Petrovich explained. "Any attempts at movement or exertion, such as an attempt to escape, will speed its course. Initial symptoms are nausea and stomach cramps. After that, vomiting, fever, joint and muscle pain, paralysis and finally death. If you tell me what I need to know to ensure that my interests are not compromised, I will provide the antidote. Otherwise, Agent DiNozzo will slowly die a most agonising death."


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as they were alone, Gibbs looked across at Tony, who had rolled up his sleeve and stood, peering at the red and sore injection site, even as he rubbed the bruises, blossoming on his neck. It was clear that Carlos had not tried to be especially gentle. Feeling Gibbs' gaze upon him, the Italian looked up, worry evident in his eyes.

"I don't _feel_ any different. Maybe, it's just a bluff."

Gibbs wasn't about to take that risk. He stalked over to the cardboard box, pulled out one of the bottles of water and unscrewed the lid, sniffing suspiciously at it, before pouring a little on the back of his hand and tasting it. Satisfied, he tore a strip of cloth from this shirt with his teet and handed both items to DiNozzo, to stem the sluggish bleeding from his split lip. He nodded at the bottom of the stairs.

"Have a seat. And don't move."

"Aren't you supposed to apply a tourniquet or something?" Tony asked, as he obediently eased himself into place, wincing slightly as new bruises made themselves known.

"You watch too much television," Gibbs began checking the room for a means to escape. "Tourniquets just concentrate the poison in one area. Its a good way to loose a limb."

"Ouch." Tony grimaced.

For a few minutes he amused himself, between alternatively pressing the cloth to his lip and peering at it to see if the bleeding had stopped and watching Gibbs check out the room. The floor was concrete. The door was a solid piece of wood, no lock, held fast by some kind of bar. The walls were brick. He frowned slightly as his arm itched.

"Don't rub it," Gibbs spoke without turning. "You might spread the poison."

Tony tipped his head, considering the man, who had hopped up on to the workbench and now appeared to be fully engaged in checking the ceiling. Although, he'd bet his paycheck that, if he so much as moved his hand, Gibbs would know. He had no idea how Gibbs always seemed to manage to be one step ahead. It was like the senior agent had his own personal radar. Tony knew it was one of the things that made his Boss a great agent. But it was also annoying that he could never get away with _anything_.

"Its a Marine thing, isn't it?"

As usual, Gibbs, had no trouble following his train of thought, even thought most of the conversation had been inside his head. Tony could hear his smile as he answered.

"Nope, it's a parent thing."

"Oh," Tony ducked his head, embarrassed. They almost never discussed the fact that Gibbs had once had a daughter, or even that Gibbs knew that Tony knew. He hadn't meant to bring up painful memories. He was such an idiot; he really needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut. "I'm sorry, Boss. I didn't .."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, which was obviously hollow, and his tone was distracted as his answered.

"I meant you, DiNozzo."

"_Oh._"

A warm rush of pleasure welled up inside him, as it always did when some small comment or action from Gibbs reaffirmed the bond they'd forged during the last four years. He remembered, not long after Kate had joined, Gibbs had been interviewing a suspect and he'd said something about 'my son, Tony.' Afterwards, the former secret-service agent had been teasing him mercilessly about being a 'mini-Gibbs' until their Boss had rounded the corner and fixed her with a glare. _"Do you know the best kind of lie, Agent Todd? The one that's closest to the truth."_ With that, he had patted Tony's cheek affectionately, in a manner that he usually reserved for when he was sick or injured, and left Kate gaping in his wake.

"You still have your knife?"

Tony looked up from his thoughts to see Gibbs pushing at a loose panel in the ceiling. Eager to help, he scrambled up, intending to unfasten his belt and release the hidden blade, only to stop suddenly, a pained expression on his face as he let out an involuntary cry.

"What?" Gibbs turned, concern in his eyes.

"Just my ribs, .. I think," Tony assured him, clinging to the banister for support as he waited for the pain to subside. Instead, it came again, a sharp, dagger like, feeling in his gut. "Or not."

He was absurdly grateful when Gibbs jumped down, taking his arm and most of his weight. Together they lowered him back onto the step, but not before a sheen of sweat had developed on his forehead. Gibbs reached over and unfastened Tony's belt himself, pulling the leather out, before palming the blade. Then he carefully un-tucked his shirt, sliding a cool hand across Tony's abdomen, while the younger man sat, unusually still and silent. His stomach felt bloated, and as Gibbs palpitated it gently, air gurgled ominously as it circled around the gut. Reaching up to lay his hand across Tony's brow he frowned slightly.

"Temperature is up. Any other symptoms?"

"Not yet." Tony managed a rueful smile.

"Try not to move."

"Are you sure that's such a good plan, Boss? For all we know keeping still could just make it work faster. Maybe, I could walk it off?"

"Well, no, DiNozzo, I'm not sure," Gibbs was sarcastic. "You _want_ to try moving again?"

Tony opened his mouth to answer, only to have his breath stolen in a soundless gasp, as another spasm of pain shot through him. Longer and more pronounced than the last.

"Tony?" Gibbs' concern shifted up a notch or two.

The Italian swallowed hard, feeling himself pale as he tried to smile over the increasingly burning pain in his gut. "Knew I shouldn't have had that shrimp last night."

"_DiNozzo_."

The word snapped out, sharp as a whip and Tony winced. Gibbs felt like a real bastard, reprimanding the younger man, when he was clearly hurting. But he had to know how bad things were and nothing short of a direct order would get the Italian to admit to any kind of real weakness.

"It feels like my gut is on fire." Tony admitted quietly.

"Stretch out," Gibbs offered conciliatorily. "Maybe we can slow things down a bit."

Aware of the need to need to move slowly and carefully, between them they got Tony laying flat on the floor. Looking up at his Boss, kneeling beside him, Tony's expression was grave.

"You think they're watching us?"

Easily reading in his expression the root of his concern, Gibbs had to look away. Trust DiNozzo. He was lying on a concrete floor, in a disused basement, held captive by a ruthless murderer, with his body pumped full of some unknown poison and he was worried about their mission.

"_How many days?"_ Gibbs' fingers flickered slightly. _"Until the bomb?"_

Locking eyes with him, Tony blinked, once.

Gibbs had to clench his jaw tight, to stop his anger and frustration from boiling over. All Petrovich had to do was keep them here, and occupied, for 24 hours while he made certain of his target. After that, Gibbs was pretty sure that the man had his own agenda for one Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, one he was going to want to take his time over. A quick bullet, through the brain wouldn't satisfy Petrovich's need for revenge on him. Although, Gibbs was fairly certain that the Russian saw some poetic justice in making him watch Tony suffer.

"Boss," There was an odd note to Tony's voice and he visibly grimaced as his gut made a loud, gurgling, sound. "I think I'm going to have to use that bucket. It probably won't be very pretty." He admitted, embarrassed.

"Just do what you need and stop whining about it, DiNozzo." Gibbs absolved him gruffly, hiding his concern as Tony gingerly edged himself over to the corner. He looked away as the younger man rearranged his clothing, the clumsy sounding movements and the foul stench enough to indicate that all was not well.

Realising he no longer had the luxury of worrying whether or not they were being observed, Gibbs hopped back up on the workbench and used Tony's knife to make short work of removing the loose panel.

As he'd hoped, the panel covered some kind of chute, obviously used to fill the cellar with fuel or root vegetables or whatever people stored in their cellars in whatever part of the world this was. Urgently now, Gibbs emptied the cardboard boxes, stacking up two pf the pallets of water to make a step, and heaved himself into the space. He only managed to raise the trapdoor a few inches, due to the shiny new chain and padlock holding it shut, with his heart in his mouth he looked across at the other side.

And gave a feral grin.

If the hinges had been rusty, it would have been impossible. As it was, it took a painstaking twenty minutes to carefully ease the screws free and open the trapdoor the other way, flooding the basement with light. Sliding back down to earth, Gibbs saw that DiNozzo had fallen into a fitful sleep. Swatting down by his side, he laid a hand on his brow, noting that the fever had risen and that, even as he slept, DiNozzo was moaning softly as if in considerable discomfort.

Then, suddenly, without warning, he sat bolt upright, his eyes snapping open in a mixture of pain and fear as he clutched his stomach and half rolled away from Gibbs, rising onto all fours as he vomited. This time Gibbs couldn't bring himself to look away as Tony's body was wracked with deep, gut wrenching, movements, that could be doing nothing to slow down the drugs' effect.

"Ew." Tony managed at last.

"Here," Gibbs offered the open bottle of water, frowning when the younger man took it with a violently shaking hand and drank no more than a few sips. "More. You'll need it. We're getting out of here."

"Boss," Tony rasped, looking up at the newly revealed shaft and then back to the ex-Marine with a serious expression. "Its no good, you're going to have to go without me."


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs didn't so much as glance at DiNozzo as he strode over to staircase to see if he could fashion some sort of travois from the banisters. Keeping his back to the stricken Agent he tugged experimentally at one of the supports, feeling it give under his hand, but in his mind burned an image of the stricken expression on DiNozzo's face. Slicked with sweat and wracked with pain he hadn't seen the Italian look that bad since that dammed plague.

"Boss."

"Not going to happen, DiNozzo." Gibbs spoke without turning.

Maybe he could use strips from his shirt to bind the pieces together. It wouldn't be perfect but the prone position should slow the rate of absorption and, since Tony wouldn't be over exerting himself, it would at least buy them some time. DiNozzo was getting out of here if he had to tie him up and drag him every step of the way.

"So, we just give Petrovich exactly what he wants and let all the sailors on that ship die?" Tony's tone was cool.

Gibbs closed his eyes. He should have known the younger man wouldn't make it easy for him. Under that playboy exterior DiNozzo had as great a sense of justice as he did. There was no way he would want to sit idly by and let innocent lives be taken if he had the means to avoid it.

"First thing we do, when we get out of here, contact MTAC." Gibbs forced his tone to sound neutral, unconcerned, as he tugged sharply and freed the first piece of wood.

"Right," Gibbs could almost hear Tony nodding sagely and he braced himself. An amenable DiNozzo was a wolf in sheep's clothing, circling its prey before the kill, sure enough. "Where exactly _is _here, Boss?"

"Looks like farm land," Gibbs stayed matter of fact. "Got some corn in those fields over there."

"Great," He could hear the sarcasm now, forcing it way over the clear edge of strain. "Maybe, a tornado will sweep us up and carry us off to Oz."

"You pack your ruby slippers?" Gibbs asked as he pulled out two more pieces of wood and started to arrange them on the floor. When there was no answer, he looked up sharply, to see DiNozzo, lying curled up on his side holding his gut, his eyes squeezed tight shut as he tried to breathe through the pain. His own eyes narrowing in concern, Gibbs angrily pulled out three more pieces of wood and, shrugging out of his shirt, stood in his undershirt, tearing viciously at the cloth, as he tried to translate some of his fear and helplessness at DiNozzo's deteriorating condition into a way of getting them both out of here.

"Boss," The soft plea in Tony's voice couldn't be ignored. Abandoning his project for the moment, Gibbs moved to his side. Laying a cool hand on DiNozzo's brow he noted the fever had gone up slightly. Tony blinked and looked up at him, intense green eyes, clouded by pain as the younger man gritted his teeth and focused on delivering his report."The ship is scheduled to deploy at 21.30 hours, don't know its heading, but its dueto make port at Plymouth, England, en route. They plan to havethe bomb go ka-boom, just as soon as the ship reaches British waters."

Gibbs considered that, as he absently picked up the bottle of water and held it to Tony's lips, so he could drink. At first, the younger man took only a few, hesitatant sips, but at Gibbs pointed look, he managed a few more ounces.

"The bomb's already on the ship?"

"It's a new ship," Tony made a face as he berated himself for forgetting to include that information. "They probably put it in during construction. You need to tell the Director.."

"You're not dead yet, DiNozzo," Gibbs rebuked gruffly. "You can tell her yourself."

Tony fixed him with a serious look. "Petrovich, use a helicopter to get us here?"

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed reluctantly. He should have known DiNozzo would work that out. It was the only way the Russian mafia boss could have got them out of the city so quickly. And he'd seen the area of flattened vegetation where the helicopter had landed in front of the long abandoned homestead.

"So, even if you McGyver our way out of here," Tony glanced at the pieces of wood. "There's not telling how far we are we are from the nearest phone. You'll move much faster if you're alone."

"You're coming with me, DiNozzo, that's an order, so don't even think about arguing with me."

"C'mon, Gibbs, even you must have seen The Wrath of Khan. The needs of the many and all that." Tony broke off to cough slightly, wincing at the pain the movement caused.

"Do I look like McGee?" Gibbs snapped, hating his own helplessness. "And that film had a sequel."

"So, you make like Kirk," Tony really didn't think talking should be _this_ difficult. "You go link up with MTAC and then come back for me."

Gibbs reached forward and grasped DiNozzo by the hair, no longer particulalry caring about being especially gentle, as he lifted the younger man up to look him straight in the eye.

"If I leave you here, Petrovich will kill you." He hissed.

Damn it if DiNozzo, didn't so much as blink. The younger man simply shrugged slightly as he dismissed the scenario as of no account. "Not right away. They are going to be too busy looking for you to think about me and they won't sacrifice their only bargaining chip until they are absolutely sure you are long gone. That gives you a day, at least, to raise the alarm and get back here. I might feel like crap, but I'm betting that there's no way this stuff can kill me in one day."

"And how exactly do you figure that?"

"Petrovich knows you. He knows you'd take more than a single day to break."

"Tony." Gibbs hesitated, as he shifted his grasp, to the back of the younger man;'s neck in silent support. All his instincts were telling him the younger man was correct. God knows, they would both die if they stayed here and DiNozzo was in no fit state to travel. The physical exertion of getting him out of the cellar alone might be enough to kill him. At least, this way, he would have a chance and they would both have a shot at saving the ship from disaster.

But if anything happened to DiNozzo before he could be rescued Gibbs knew he would never forgive himself.

"Alright," Tony slurred slightly, as he struggled to focus on his Boss. " M'gonna make it easy for you. I order you to go."

The small swell of pride at the younger man's courage rose unbidden in Gibbs chest, as he absently rubbed a thumb across his pulse point beofre raising a quizzical brow.

"Since when did you give me orders?"

"Since you got all unfit to lead."

"Me unfit to lead?" Gibbs tipped his head on one side. "You take a good look at yourself lately?"

"I'm serious, Gibbs," Tony pressed his lips together as he forced himself to focus. "You're letting your loyalty cloud your judgement, I'm a trained Federal Agent. Saving lives is my job. If I could save even one of those sailors lives by putting myself between them and a bullet, we both know I'd do it. So, why not this?"

"Its not the same." Gibbs insisted tightly.

"Isn't it?" Tony pressed. "If you were the one lying here, you'd order me to go."

"And you'd ignore me." Gibbs retorted with some justice. He'd lost count of the times he'd given DiNozzo a direct order to evac from a dangerous situation and the Italian had left his side just long enough to ensure that everyone else was clear, before sticking to his six like glue.

"C'mon Boss. If I didn't do this, could you really respect me in the morning?"

"Dammit, DiNozzo," Gibbs shouted as he surged to his feet and began to pace, turning back to point a threatening finger at the younger man. "You will _not_ joke about this. Do you hear me?"

"Sorry," Tony looked away, cowed in the face of his genuine wrath. "It's a coping mechanism. Used to drive my father nuts. He never could understand why I didn't take things more seriously. Thing was, he never understood, I was usually scared stiff. Mostly, that I'd disappointed him again."

Gibbs closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down, before dropping back beside his suffering senior field agent and grasping his chin gently, forcing unwilling green eyes to meet his gaze.

"You've never disappointed me, do you understand me? Never. You've annoyed the hall out of me, you've driven me to distraction, you've sorely tried my patience, but I have never been anything but proud of you, son."

"Then let me do this, Jethro," Tony begged seriously. "Let me do my job. Please?"

Moving his hand, Gibbs cupped it around the back of Tony's neck, lifting him slightly forward until their foreheads touched, closing his eyes briefly as he felt the heat radiating off the younger man. It was almost enough ex-marine's resolve falter. But he knew that he had a duty to perform, both in answering his own training and to honour and respect the exceptional person DiNozzo had grown into under his command. As a trained Federal Agent, DiNozzo had his own sense of duty and honour to consider and to continue to fight against it would simply belittle the noble sacrifice that DiNozzo was determined to make.

"You _will_ live, you hear me?"

"I hear you, Boss." Tony smiled weakly.

There was so much more Gibbs wanted to say. He knew that there was a very real probability that he would never see DiNozzo again. That the younger man would most likely die here. But he couldn't bring himself to say anything that even suggested Tony wouldn't be just fine. Swallowing hard as he saw similar feelings reflected in the Italian's eyes, he was suddenly struck by inspiration. Pulling back slightly, he picked at the clasp on his wrist, telling himself that the dammed thing was always difficult to remove, that was why he wore it all the time. It had nothing to do with the fact that tears blurred his vision. Taking firm control of himself, he freed the clasp before lifting up Tony's hand and pressing the heavy silver bracelet into his palm, closing his fingers tightly around it.

"Look after this for me. I'll be bakc to collect."

"Boss..," Tony swallowed hard, determined to make Gibbs proud. "Pick me up some Chinese Food?"

Gibbs smiled, it took him a moment to ensure that his senior field agent had all the available rations to hand, just in case, then he allowed himself the luxury of stroking Tony's hair once, before standing up and hopping onto the workbench. He'd told himself he wouldn't look back, but he found he couldn't just leave. Turning to face the younger man he brought his hand up to salute his courage.

"Semper Fi."

"Don't forget the Chinese." Tony managed a smile.

He was utterly ruthless as he made his way across country, stealing whatever he needed and denying himself food or rest, until he reached the nearest telephone. Within minutes he had alerted NCIS to the danger to the ship and brow beaten the sheriff's office into providing backup and transportation to rescue his man.

Not to mention an order of Chinese food.

When he returned to the cellar, three hours and forty six minutes after he had left DiNozzo, the room was completely empty.


	5. Chapter 5

AN – For those who enquired, definitely not a death fic. Please check out the summary if in need of further reassurance!

* * *

Gibbs stood and watched as the last of the boxes and equipment was loaded back onto the NCIS truck. Ziva and McGee had gone through the cellar with a fine toothcomb. Gibbs had ordered them to lift all the fingerprints, even though he was pretty sure they wouldn't come up with anything. He'd ordered them to check all suppliers of the water and MRE's even though he knew the Russian was too clever to be caught leaving a trail like that. He'd had them collect swabs, despite the fact the floor had been scrubbed clean, just in case traces of Tony's blood or vomit threw them a bone. But in his heart of hearts he knew they had nothing to go on.

And that was unacceptable.

"What do you have?" He demanded of the young woman, hovering on the edge of his wrath.

"Petrovich is a very clever man," Ziva's voice was matter of fact, but he could hear her underlying frustration. "The house has not been entered. If he has a base of operations it is not here. There are six sets of tracks between the helicopter and the basement," She shrugged. "Its easy to tell because one of them has a pair of designer shoes with a very distinctive tread."

"Yeah well, I know, Officer David. I saw 'em." Gibbs snapped.

"Of course," She looked at her notes. "There were three journeys. The first two you know about. The third was when Petrovich came to take Tony away. He definitely left in the Helicopter, Gibbs."

"Now can you tell me something I don't know?"

"No," Ziva met his gaze levelly. "Not right now."

"Um, Boss," McGee came up to join them, his brow furrowed in a small wrinkle as he braced himself to break bad news. "We're all packed up. The Sheriff's office are going to secure the scene in case Petrovich comes back here, but they say without a body .. I mean, not that we want a body .. its good that there's no body .."

"Petrovich won't be coming back here," Gibbs said absently. "He's got what he wanted."

"What's that, Boss?" McGee asked.

Gibbs didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic evidence bag, which he passed to McGee. "Get this to Abby will you? See what she can get from it."

Tim peered at the heavy silver identity bracelet inside the bag, his eyes going at once to Gibbs' wrist, bare except for his wristwatch. Looking back at the bag he frowned.

"Is this evidence, Boss?"

"Right now, McGee, it's all we've got."

It had been the first thing that Gibbs' eyes had been drawn to on his return. Clutching a bag of Chinese food, he had ignored the bemused looks from the local Sheriff's department as he had slid down into the cellar the same way he had got out and come to a dead halt at the sight of the empty room. Empty that is, except for, there in the middle of the floor, his bracelet lay abandoned.

Just like he had abandoned Tony.

Next to his wedding ring and a lock of Kelly's hair, that bracelet was his most prized possession. A gift from his father, he'd worn it every day of his adult life. Right now, he knew he wouldn't be able to wear it again, not until Tony was home and safe.

Whatever it took.

* * *

Walking back into the bullpen without DiNozzo on his six wasn't a feeling Gibbs ever wanted to get used to. Around him the other Agents were torn between, not wanting to meet his eyes, and trying to telegraph both regret and hope in a single, awkward, glance. Waiting at his desk, Dr Mallard had no such reservations.

"Oh Jethro, I'm so terribly sorry."

"He's not dead yet, Duck," Gibbs responded curtly, as he swung into his seat and powered up his computer. "Save your sympathy for Petrovich."

"Is Anthony aware that you two have a certain history?"

"He knows our paths crossed. Not the details."

And that was Gibbs greatest regret. Because he knew that if he had taken the time to explain to DiNozzo exactly why Petrovich had targeted him, instead of Ziva, that Tony would have been _proud_. He could just picture that, shy, bashful smile, lighting up his face, as Gibbs' words sunk in. And that knowledge would have sustained him through whatever the hell Petrovich was doing to him right now. But Gibbs hadn't told him, because he was too afraid that the truth would dimminsh him in the younger man's eyes.

God, he really was a bastard.

"I don't suppose it would do any good to suggest that you took some rest?" Ducky enquired urbanely. "No, I thought not. I'll send young Mr Palmer along with a sandwich; try not to bite his head off. He really is quite useful most off the time."

"Duck."

Gibbs didn't think he'd ever felt so weary. He had Ziva out checking all civilian helicopter flight plans with air traffic control and McGee chasing down every bit of Intel from the FBI, CIA and any other Agency in the dammed alphabet where he could call in a marker or sell his soul for information and he still feared it wouldn't be enough. Not this time.

"You'll get him back, Jethro," The elderly MD assured. "You always do."

"Alive, Duck?" Gibbs asked bleakly.

Mallard was saved from making a response by the trilling of Gibbs' desk phone. Picking it up, the lead agent was reminded that his team had other concerns than the welfare of one Anthony David DiNozzo. Making his way up to MTAC Jenny didn't take her eyes off the video feed as he dropped into the seat beside her.

"The Horizon," She supplied. "It's the only destroyer in the Atlantic fleet scheduled to deploy at 21.30 hours, making port at Plymouth, England. It's just about to enter British waters. She's been evacuated of all non-essential personnel and the ship has been scanned from top to toe."

"Any sign of the ka-boom?"

"Not so far."

"You won't find anything," Gibbs said with a sudden sick certainty. "This was never about the dammed ship. It was just a decoy to get NCIS in the game, we fell for it and now DiNozzo is paying the price."

Beside him, Shepherd raised a sceptical brow. "You think that Petrovich engineered this entire operation, simply to affect the kidnapping of an NCIS Agent he had never even met?"

"Petrovich wants revenge on me. And he knows going after Tony is the best way to get it."

"You've only worked with DiNozzo for four years," Jen protested. "If Petrovich was targeting you, there are any number of Agents with whom you have a more significant history."

The look he gave her was one she could never read. The one that said, no matter what they had shared there was a part of him that was closed to her. She wanted to think that he was like that with everyone, but she knew differently. Some people, like Dr Mallard, or Abigail Scutio were able to worm their way in. She'd just never imagined that Anthony DiNozzo with his frat boy humour and goof ball attitude could be one of those people.

"Jealous, Jen?"

"Special Agent DiNozzo, is not your son, Jethro." She retorted stiffly.

For a second, Gibbs was back in that warehouse in Russia. He could hear the snow falling softly on the roof. He could see the look of terror on the face of the startled teenager. He felt the same sudden lurch of horror as the youth raised an automatic weapon in his violently shaking hands. Forced to defend himself, Gibbs had shot to wound, only to watch helplessly as the boy had staggered backward under the force of the bullet and fallen from the walkway to his death.

"Unfortunately, for DiNozzo, Petrovich obviously thinks differently, Director."

* * *

The first thing Tony was aware of was the absence of pain. It seemed like the twisting, burning, agony had been his companion for so long that he could barely remember a pain free state. The second thing he noticed was the steady, bleep, bleep, of some kind of monitor. That and the over starched sheets.

Hospital.

Generally, Tony wasn't overly fond of Hospitals. He could interview suspects, visit colleagues, or even flirt with hot medical personnel. But the helplessness that came with being an actual patient, unable to take yourself to the bathroom or cut up your own food, grated on him. He'd never enjoyed being reliant on others. Right now, he was ridiculously grateful for its comforts.

"I know that you are awake, Special Agent DiNozzo. Open your eyes, if you please."

Inwardly, Tony winced at the smooth, cool, tones, which he instantly recognised as Petrovich. Having thought he was safe, the prospect of his continued confinement was a disappointing blow. Mentally summoning an aura of unconcern, he spoke without complying.

"If you know I'm awake, you don't need me to open my eyes."

"Very droll, Agent DiNozzo," Petrovich did not sound in the least bit amused. "Not very smart."

Tony resisted the urge to comment that the Mafia boss sounded exactly like his third grade English teacher, Mrs Rochester. If he managed to get himself killed before he could get out of here, Gibbs would be royally pissed. Blinking slightly in the harsh light, he opened his eyes to see what looked like a regular Hospital room, except without any windows, and Petrovich standing at the foot of the bed, wearing a tux.

"I feel a little underdressed."

Under the sheets, he was wearing nothing but a Hospital gown. Not his favourite designer label for affecting an escape. Although, he wasn't about to let a little detail like that stop him.

"You are either a brave man or a very foolish one," Petrovich observed. "And I do not think that your Special Agent Gibbs would think so highly of a fool."

Tony debated playing down his importance to Gibbs. But he had a gut feeling that, right now, that importance was the only thing keeping him alive. Tipping his head on one side, he observed conversationally.

"You know, you should probably let me go, because otherwise, Gibbs is going to kick your ass. He tends to get like that when someone goes after one of his people. It's a Marine thing."

"Perhaps. First he must find you."

The supreme confidence in Petrovich's tone was almost enough to make Tony's courage falter. There was no telling how far or how fast he had travelled. If this place was some kind of nuclear bunker in northern Siberia, he could grow old before Gibbs found him. Then again, he could be wrong, but he didn't think there was that much call for Black Tie, in the frozen wastes of Siberia.

"I'm guessing I'm not in Kansas anymore." He quipped.

"Make no mistake, Special Agent DiNozzo, you live simply because, at present, your death serves no purpose to me. Without Special Agent Gibbs to witness your suffering, even your torment holds no interest for me. This is why you have been given the antidote to your previous discomfort. And there remains the possibility that your continued existence might yet be of some use. But if you refuse to co-operate, I will kill you without a second thought."

"Co-operate with what exactly?" Tony asked warily.

Petrovich told him.

"You know," Tony considered. "Normally, I like to be accommodating; I'm really a very amenable kind of guy. You can ask my co-workers. But that?" He made a rueful face, before his expression hardened into the kind of stone cold determination, with which he faced down armed suspects. "No way in hell."


	6. Chapter 6

It had become second nature now. Every other morning on his way to work, Gibbs swung by Tony's apartment, picked up his mail and dealt with any bills. The rent and utilities were covered by automated payments, but on Mondays and Thursdays, he left cash on the kitchen table for the maid service.

Two weeks on and they still had nothing more to go on than that first day. Sometimes, Gibbs would catch sight of a dark head in a crowd and imagine it was Tony, only to be disappointed. Other times, he would get a hit on the revolving database he had set up on his computer to search for John Doe's but they were never DiNozzo

Two weeks was fourteen days too long.

He knew he wasn't the only one. McGee had taken it upon himself to keep Tony's car in good running order. Abby was answering Tony's e-mail every day. And, as he walked into the bullpen, on a corner of her desk, Ziva was nurturing DiNozzo's one and only pot plant with a level of care and attention that bordered on the obsessive.

"Um, Boss," McGee rose to his feet and came over to intercept him, looking anxious. "The Director came by. She asked to see you as soon as you got in. She said it was important."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and looked over McGee's shoulder, to the sandy haired man, looking distinctly uncomfortable as he sat behind DiNozzo's desk.

"It have anything to do with _that_?"

"He says his name is Aaron Samuels and he's transferred from San Diego," Ziva eyed the middle-aged man like he was a bug on a board, causing him to swallow hard and discreetly loosen his tie. "Apparently, the Director believes we need some one to pick up the slack."

"Does she now?"

As he jogged up the stairs, he was already silently fuming. He strode past Cynthia without so much as a glance in her direction and pushed open the door, to see Shepherd sitting around the conference table with two representatives from the legal department. She took one look at his face and closed the file in front of her.

"Could you please step outside for a moment gentlemen? Special Agent Gibbs and I have something we need to discuss."

Gibbs took no satisfaction in the way they hastily gathered their papers and all but scurried past him, in an attempt to keep under his radar. Right now, he didn't care about anything but DiNozzo. He pointedly ignored Shepherd's oblique attempt to get him to sit and make nice at the table and obsinately remained standing.

Reluctantly, she rose to her feet and came around the back of her desk, taking a moment to settle into her seat, before fixing him with a sympathetic look.

"It's been two weeks, Jethro."

"Two weeks is a vacation in Palm Springs, Jen," Gibbs all but snarled. "Not the life of my senior field agent."

"I understand, believe me I do, and if there had been any sign, even the smallest lead, I would be the first one to pushing for more resources. We still have every NCIS office on alert for any trace of DiNozzo, not to mention, every other Agency, Police and Sheriff's Department. Between us we've called in every marker we've ever earned and created countless more. But we have nothing to go on."

"DiNozzo's still missing, that's not nothing."

"Then show me a lead, a sighting, I'll gladly let you follow it. I'll even come myself. Give me something Jethro, anything that can justify this level of manpower.

"I need more time."

"I wish I could," Jenny allowed her own distress to leak through. She never liked this part of the job. "Tony's a good man and a fine Agent. But we both know that once you left there was no reason for Petrovich to give him the antidote. They obviously decided to cut their losses and set up operations someplace else. Do you really think they would have bothered to drag Tony along with them?"

"He's still a Federal Agent. He has information Petrovich could use. Its not in Petrovich's nature to waste an opportunity like that."

"And SOP says that all those codes and classified files at Tony's clearence level will be amended once the Agent's been compromised. Petrovich would know that as soon as you raised the alert that DiNozzo was of no further material use to him."

"He's not dead, Jen."

"Unfortunately, Special Agent DiNozzo's father thinks otherwise," Shepherd sighed. "His lawyers have started proceedings to have him declared legally deceased."

"After two weeks? Can he do that?"

"They are arguing that the circumstances of Tony's kidnapping are evidence that he was exposed to "imminent peril". As you know, in such cases, the normal seven-year window doesn't apply. They don't even need a body. Mr DiNozzo's lawyers have indicated that as we have failed to produce Tony, alive and well, they see that as sufficient grounds to begin proceedings to tie up his estate."

"They can try." Gibbs smiled grimly.

* * *

He hadn't wanted to break the bad news to his team in the bullpen. It was too public and using the morgue was just plain wrong. So, they were waiting for him, huddled around Abby's computer, their faces white and stark with worry.

"He's not dead," Abby declared defiantly, even as tears glistened in her eyes. "I won't let him be."

"Shh, of course he's not," Gibbs soothed, enfolding her in his arms and dropping a soft kiss on her head. "I gave him a direct order. He wouldn't dare screw that up."

"Thank God." McGee breathed, voicing the relief they all felt. When Gibbs had asked to see them, right after his meeting in the Director's office, they had all feared the worst.

"But?" Ziva asked softly, reading his expression. "There is a but? Yes?"

"The Director has placed us back on active rotation. Until there is a new lead, searching for DiNozzo is no longer to be our primary concern. And since neither of you two have sufficient seniority to step up as senior field Agent, she has appointed Agent Samuels to fill the breach."

"She's replacing Tony?" McGee was shocked.

"No," Abby defended stoutly. "Gibbs would never allow that."

"Purely TAD," Gibbs agreed, eyeing his team sternly. "And you will all give him your complete co-operation."

"But Gibbs..!" Abby protested.

"The extra man power will give us more time to look for Tony." Ziva nodded her approval at the way the ex-marine had turned Shepherd's directive to his own advantage. "It's a good idea, Gibbs."

"And as soon as we find a new lead, Tony's our priority mission again." McGee realised at once.

"Until we catch another case, he still is." Gibbs pointed out.

"So, what are we waiting for? Let's power up our computers and find that one, apparently insignificant, but actually crucial piece of evidence, that will help us find our Tony and bring him home safe." Abby bounced with newfound determination as she matched her actions to the words.

"I need to call back that contact of mine in the security business, he said he might have a lead on Petrovich's recent business transactions." Ziva was already moving.

"I should get back to checking out those real estate locations," McGee was on her heels. "Maybe, something with a nuclear bunker."

"Just because he is Russian you think he will have a nuclear bunker?" Ziva raised a brow.

"No, I think he will have an nuclear bunker because he is rich and completely insane." McGee retorted.

Shaking his head, Gibbs went to follow them, they had barely made it to the elevator, when Abby came tearing after them.

"Gibbs, wait!"

They turned to see her come to a sudden stop in front of them, her eyes wide with amazement.

"It worked!" She declared.

"What?" Gibbs demanded.

"I powered up my computer and found that one, apparently insignificant, but actually crucial piece of evidence, that will help us find our Tony and bring him home safe!" Abby gabbled, without pausing for breath. "He sent me an e-mail."

"Petrovich?" Gibbs eyes went hard, as he moved back into the lab.

"No, Tony."

"What!"

There was apparently, no doubt about it. It took Abby and McGee seconds to verify that the e-mail had originated from Tony's personal Yahoo account and had been sent to Ziva, McGee and Abby's various Yahoo, Hotmail and AOL accounts.

"You use AOL?" McGee frowned at Ziva.

"Its version 9." Ziva defended herself. "And I find the icons easier to understand."

"You wanna open it, Abs?" Gibbs grew impatient.

"Petrovich would have used his NCIS e-mail, No?" Ziva asked, as they watched the screen change.

"Maybe." Gibbs wouldn't commit as he read the message on the screen. He frowned. "That's it. He wants you to give me this? And why would he think I need you to show me how to open it? He taught me how to open the dammed email thingies himself."

"This is an attachment. A Wav. file. You know, audio? Like an electronic tape deck, Gibbs."

"Or a message in a bottle." Ziva murmured.

"An audio message? From Tony?" That got Gibbs' attention. "Why aren't you playing it already?"

Abby pressed a button and after a moment Tony's voice filled the room.

"Hey, Boss, it's me," Tony sounded a little awkward. "Petrovich is here. I'd get him to say Zdravstvuite but I don't have much time. I was going to tell him to stick this, I mean; so what if he's holding a gun to my head, he's going to kill me anyway, right? But then I thought about you guys and figured knowing has to be better than not knowing."

Gibbs' hand clenched into a fist, despite the bravado, he could hear the underlying weariness in his Agent's tone. It was obvious that DiNozzo had had a hard time of things.

"This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you to meet Petrovich at some secluded location. Come alone, no backup, you know the drill. But we both know there's no way I'm getting out of this one. He wants to kill you, Boss and if my death makes you do whatever it takes to keep alive until you've nailed the bastard for me, then that's good enough for me. Don't let Abby be too sad. I know you'll take good care of her. Maybe, every once in a while, you can buy her a Caff Pow from me. Tell Ducky, thanks. He'll know what I mean. Tell McGee, he's a better Agent than he is a writer. There is no way Agent Tommy would have been fooled by that Mata Hari. He should probably save it all for his memoirs anyway. Wouldn't want to have used up all the good stuff before he makes Director. And Ziva. Tel her I'm leaving her my entire DVD collection. Maybe, they will help her understand a bit more about American culture and perhaps appreciate some of those hidden depths I never really got to show her."

In the silence that followed, Abby cried softly as McGee hugged her close, struggling to hold on to his own emotions as he buried his face in her hair. Next to them, Ziva stood proud, determined to ignore the burning in her chest and the tightness in her throat, even as silent tears trickled down her face. Then Tony spoke one last time.

"I love you, Boss."

The sound of a high calibre weapon discharging and hitting flesh and bone was unmistakable. And no matter how many times Abby analysed it, compared it and re-ran it, in the hours and days and weeks to follow, there was no way that the sound clip would come out as other than 100 genuine and un-doctored.


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs looked at all the people in dark suits and formal dresses, several of the women wearing hats, milling around on the steps outside the imposing Cathedral. He didn't know most of them. He wondered if Tony even had.

"This was a bad idea."

"Boss," McGee bit his lip and thought better of whatever he was going to say. "Maybe, we should just go inside."

"Yes, let's," Abby seemed unaccountably eager, as she rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a small silver rectangle. "I need to make sure I get a good seat."

"You brought your camera to a memorial service?" Ziva raised a brow.

"Of course," Abby nodded vigorously, as she dug back into her bag to produce a neat Dictaphone. "And this. You know how Tony is about being the centre of attention. When he comes home he's going to want every teeny tiny detail. I already got him a copy of the service sheet," Her confidence wavered slightly. "Bad idea?"

"I'm sure Anthony will appreciate the sentiment, my dear," Ducky patted her shoulder comfortingly. "Although, it does seem that Mr DiNozzo has already taken his own steps to record the event for posterity."

Gibbs' head came up sharply, as he took in the arrival of the television news crews, his eyes widening in disbelief. David DiNozzo had already been all over the airways, playing up the heroism of the son he had disowned. Now it seemed he wanted to turn the memorial service into some kind of PR event.

"Perhaps, you should reconsider your decision to have Ducky deliver the eulogy." Ziva murmured.

Both the Secretary of the Navy and the Director had put pressure on Gibbs to speak at the service. He had been resolute. His senior field agent was still out there somewhere and until some one found him a body that said otherwise, he wasn't going to give up hope and he sure as hell wasn't going to be delivering any eulogies.

"I think Tony would like that, Boss." McGee spoke up bravely.

"He's going to think you don't care." Abby worried.

"Abigail, has a point," Ducky observed. "It would be just like Petrovich to make the poor boy watch his own memorial service and, whilst the fond reminiscences might offer him a little temporary comfort, I'm afraid the long term impact could be quite devastating."

"A little dramatic there, don't ya think, Duck?"

"You don't think it would harm Tony to realise that all these people believe they will never see him again?" Ziva enquired.

That night, the television newscasts ignored David DiNozzo's carefully scripted speech on the son he barely knew. Instead, every station, on every channel, every hour, carried the same interview.

"_Special Agent Gibbs. Am I to understand, that despite the family's success in obtaining a death certificate, NCIS doesn't believe Special Agent DiNozzo is dead?"_

"_We are still investigating."_

"_If Special Agent DiNozzo is watching, do you have a message for him?" _

_Gibbs face filled the screen as the camera zoomed in, his blue eyes burning with determination._

_"Hold on. We're coming for you."_

* * *

He had to keep moving. The thought ran through his brain, driving him onwards, although he could no longer recall why. He was hungry, but knew eating wasn't a good idea. He was parched with thirst, but the idea of drinking made him nauseous. And _it _hurt. 

_It_ had been there for as along as he could remember. Which, admittedly, wasn't very long. It had bled a little, at first. He knew because he had peeked under the bandages, ignoring the inner voice that said that was a bad idea. It wasn't bleeding any more, but it looked nasty and he was pretty sure the streaks of red, making their way inexorably up his arm, weren't a good sigh.

At first, he welcomed the rain. It felt cool on his flushed face. But then his t-shirt and sweat pants grew heavy with water and not long after that he began to shiver so hard his teeth chattered. He wanted to call Dale Earnhardt Junior and ask him for a ride home. But he couldn't remember the phone number. Or even how he knew the man.

God, he was so tired.

As the ground got wet and slippery he began to stumble, until, without warning he fell, grazing his cheek and sending a wave of mind numbing agony radiating out from the ever-present pain in his arm. He barely registered the sound of a truck pulling over, as he rolled in the mud, or the footsteps that ran back to his aid.

"Oh my good Lord." a voice worried.

He wanted to say that he was fine. Not to worry. But the voice was still talking and he thought it was rude to interrupt. And besides, he wasn't at all sure, that he was. Not right now.

"Name .. son .. can you tell me?"

"G gibbs."

He wasn't sure where that came from, but it was a name and it was important to him. The voice seemed happy, turning its attention to calling someone called Margaret and asking her to back up the truck, as he was hauled to his feet. He wanted to complain that lying down had been easier, but he didn't want to seem ungrateful.

".. name..?"

He jerked back to the present, realising that he hadn't been paying attention. Wanting to please, because the voice was being kind and not trying to hurt him, he frowned and concentrated. He didn't think it was supposed to be this hard, but at the edges of his memory, he found another name.

"Todd."

"Alright then, Todd, let's get you out of this rain and into some dry things."

And because he didn't know what else to do, he let himself be helped into the truck, feeling the comfort as a warm wool blanket was tucked around him. And he thought he might have asked them to take him to Dale, but he wasn't sure they had understood how important it was, before the warmth and the steady purr of the engine lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Director Shepherd was already on her feet and apologising as David DiNozzo came into the room. Bloated by years of rich living and excessive alcohol Gibbs was struck by how little of the son, he could see in the father. Only the eyes were the same, intense, colour. 

"And, of course, Special Agent Gibbs is deeply sorry for any distress caused to you and your family, aren't you Agent Gibbs?" Jenny said pointedly.

"All the information I received from your layers and mine told me my son is dead," DiNozzo retorted. "We have a death certificate. Now you're claiming he might be alive. What kind of Mickey Mouse Agency is this?"

"All the evidence we have is circumstantial," Gibbs met his gaze. "I prefer proof."

"Is that so?" DiNozzo challenged. "Or are you simply looking for an excuse to cling onto my son's assets?"

"My only concern is the welfare of my Agent."

The two men glared at each other. Gibbs felt his fists clench and deliberately uncurled them. Taking a swing at this man would be more than worth whatever disciplinary action he received. But he couldn't do that to Tony. The man was still his father when all was said and done.

"Director Shepherd, might I have a word with Special Agent Gibbs in private?" DiNozzo spoke quietly.

She left without protest. Gibbs wasn't sure if her withdrawal was a sign of her confidence in his ability to take care of himself or a willingness to throw him to the lions. He wanted to believe the former. But he knew she wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice him for the good of her career. It wouldn't be the first time.

Gibbs watched as David DiNozzo headed for the bar and poured a generous measure of whiskey into a crystal tumbler, swallowed it in a single gulp, before eying the ex-marine, like a leopard, stalking its prey.

"My lawyers tell me that you are the sole executor of my son's will. You will be aware that his Grandmother left him a significant holding in DiNozzo Enterprises, enough to secure a seat on the board. Anthony never exercised that privilege, but it is essential that those interests remain in the family."

"You want to talk about his will?" Gibbs retorted, in disbelief. "What kind of father are you?"

"I haven't seen or spoke to my son in over ten years, Agent Gibbs. Alive or dead it makes no difference to me. But I cannot allow those shares to be offered on the open market. So, I will make you a deal. If you sign them over to me, I will place the entire resources of DiNozzo Enterprises at your disposal in finding your missing Agent."

Gibbs had seized him by the lapels and had him backed up against the wall before the man could blink. Leaning in, he narrowed his eyes as he hissed between gritted teeth.

"He is your _son_."

"And you will never be able to live with the guilt if you let him die, when you had the means to avoid it." DiNozzo smirked.

The sound of fine bones cracking under flesh was well worth the two-week suspension without pay. He would find a way to explain it to DiNozzo.

* * *

The following night, Gibbs never paused in his work as the familiar heavy tread echoed overhead. He didn't look up as the feet descended the stairs. When Fornell headed straight for the workbench and reached for the bottle of Jack, pouring a generous measure into a reasonably clean mug, and placing it deliberately in front of him, he spoke without looking up. 

"Am I gonna need that?"

"Well," Fornell sighed, as he settled himself against a strut. "That would depend on your point of view."

Gibbs carefully put his tools aside and stripped off his gloves, before turning to face the FBI Agent. He didn't touch the mug.

"I'm listening."

"Is that DiNutso's stuff?" Fornell gestured at the crates stacked up in the far corner of the basement.

"Uh huh." Gibbs' tone indicated that subject was closed.

Fornell paused to take a swallow of his own drink before continuing. "One of our teams working the Chicago area uncovered some Intel about a shipment of arms being delivered to one of those big, fancy, lake houses the Mafia bosses like to retire to. Except, by the time they got there the place had been pretty much cleared out. The whole thing was a bust."

"So, why are you bringing this to me?"

"The basement had been set up as a Hospital suite, a lot of these organised crime guys do it, only trust people on their own payroll. This one was state of the art, even had its own operating theatre. On the carpet, in the bedroom, one of our lab guys found traces of blood."

Gibbs eyed the mug suspiciously, before picking it up in a swift movement, swallowing the contents in a single, burning, gulp and wiping off his mouth, before asking.

"DiNozzo?"

"Petrovich."

Gibbs raised a brow, as he absorbed that information. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that you found the bastard's body?"

"'Fraid so," Fornell agreed. "But we did find something else."

"Are you waiting for me to guess?"

Wordlessly, Fornell reached into his pocket and pulled out small evidence baggy, containing a single, diamond, stud. Gibbs' expression softened. He'd get Abby to do a DNA test on the stem, but he already knew what the result would be.

"The locals say there was usually a 31-foot ketch moored up at the lakeside. Its been missing for the past two weeks," Fornell's voice cut into his thoughts. "You think DiNozzo could manage a boat like that single handed?"

"Better than Petrovich," Gibbs assured him. "Man was terrifed of the ocean."

"Boat like that could be almost anywhere by now." Fornell warned, his tone guarded.

Gibbs already had his phone out.

"Abs, can you talk to that friend of yours at NASA? We need to borrow one of his satellites again."


	8. Chapter 8

After so many fruitless, empty weeks, he hadn't expected it to be easy. But he hadn't expected it to be this hard either. With the help of Abby's NASA boyfriend, they'd found the boat easily enough, this time with DiNozzo's blood staining the floor. But the heavy rain and the passage of time had destroyed any other physical evidence, which might have told them in which direction he had gone.

"Jethro," Gibbs narrowed his eyes as, even through the distortion of the poor cell reception, he recognised the compassionate tone the Director used for breaking bad news to bereaved families. "It's been weeks. If Agent DiNozzo had made good his escape, why hasn't he come home?"

"Because he can't," Gibbs' tone was clipped. "Petrovich's organisation has a long reach, Jen. If Tony has killed him, they're going to be looking for him. In those circumstances, coming back to Washington would be damn near suicidal and its not in DiNozzo's nature to put others needlessly at risk."

"Gibbs we've put appeals out on local Television and radio. You even gave an interview to the press. DiNozzo's track record proves how resourceful he is. If he was still alive, don't you think he would have found some way to contact you?"

Gibbs didn't want to admit how much that had been bothering him. When he was in trouble, Tony came to him. Every time. Plus, the younger man would know he was worried about him. It didn't matter that others speculated that his grim demeanour made him cold and uncaring, Tony would know, and he would never leave him hanging like that.

"I don't know, Jen," Frustration made him angry. "Maybe, he's holed up somewhere, waiting for the heat to die down, maybe he's found out something about the operation and he's trying not to break cover. Maybe, he's injured and he's trying to stay alive while I'm wasting my time talking to you."

He knew that there'd be a price for hanging up on her. She was the Director, after all. But right now he didn't much care. He'd toss the dammed cell out of the window, if it wasn't for the fact that it was the number DiNozzo had and he couldn't give up hope that the young man might try to contact him.

Putting the car into gear, he drove out of town, down Main Street, barely noticing the usual array of Mom and Pop Stores and essential services. This place was exactly like the fifteen or so other small towns, where they had searched for Tony. And the longer it took, the further they got from the boat, the more he saw the doubt in the local LEOs eyes. They'd been at this for five days now.

He knew he was running out of time. He squinted at the dashboard.

And gas.

Cursing the fact that he had let his anger distract him from filling up before he left town, he was deliberating whether to waste valuable time turning around, when he saw a sign for a gas station a few miles ahead. Checking the gauge again he figured he could just about make the distance.

He was almost right. He only had to walk the last half-mile.

* * *

As he carried the petrol can onto the forecourt, he shaded his eyes, searching the area for some sign of an attendant. And his heart caught in his mouth. The movements were a little slower and manner a little more hesitant, but the young man working on the old Chevy was so familiar Gibbs had dropped the can and crossed the distance between them before he even realised he was moving.

"DiNozzo!"

The man stilled and the familiar dark head came up more slowly that Gibbs expected. The dark green eyes regarded him curiously, before he quickly looked away. And it took Gibbs a moment to react, because Tony had _recognised_ him and been afraid.

"DiNozzo?"

"Go away, Gibbs."

The cold indifference would have would have fooled most people. Its smooth vehemence might even have convinced Ziva and McGee, or at least warned them to back off. But Gibbs had seen this man in every possible incarnation and could not miss the faint undercurrent of desperation in his tone. Like he knew there was no way in hell Gibbs was actually leaving. And that scared the hell out of him.

"That's Boss to you." Gibbs rebuked mildly.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Tony straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag, before he met Gibbs' gaze with a closed expression. "I'm not an NCIS Agent anymore. Anthony DiNozzo has been declared legally dead, there was even a memorial service. Lovely flowers. I thought I might had merited a few words from you, but I hear Ducky did me proud."

"I never believed you were dead."

"No?" Tony's eyes flashed. "You were quick enough to replace me. Some high flyer from the San Diego office?"

"He's TAD. Just keeping your desk warm."

"What about my apartment?"

That was one question Gibbs had hoped he wouldn't ask. A legal status of 'deceased' had made it impossible for Gibbs to continue Tony's lease.

"Petrovich tell you all this?" He tried to deflect.

"You haven't answered my question," Tony stood firm. "Why should I answer yours?"

"Never did like that apartment," Gibbs reminded him. "Been telling you for months to buy a place of your own."

"Oh, and now I'm dead, I have so much stuff." Tony was sarcastic.

"I have every last thing you own crated up and stored in my basement."

"You kept all my stuff?" Tony's expression softened.

"Your stuff, your job, your friends, your life DiNozzo." Gibbs risked a smile. "All right there, waiting for you."

But Tony instantly stiffened, as if he had caught himself doing something he hadn't intended to. Deliberately turning away, he went back to working on the carburettor.

"I have a life here now."

"You hate the boon docks." Gibbs pointed out.

"People change," Tony wouldn't look at him. "I don't have to watch my back all the time. I haven't been kidnapped, shot at, tortured, blown up or beaten to a pulp in days."

"And you miss it." Gibbs said with utter certainty.

"Maybe," Tony did look at him then and Gibbs could see his total sincerity. "Like you miss the Marines. But that doesn't mean you'd go back."

* * *

"How long has he been working here?" Gibbs asked, as he put away his badge.

"Not long," Tom Barrington, the owner of the gas station, was guarded. "My wife and I found him by the side of the road. Look, I know I shouldn't have done it, but he was just a young fella and so thin a stiff breeze could have knocked him over. I have two sons, not much older than him and he seemed like a decent man, just a little down on his luck. I could see the wound had been tended to but .."

"Wound?" Gibbs gaze sharpened.

"On his arm. About so round," Tom measured with his fingers. "Not a gun shot, or a knife cut, more like a gouge. Never seen anything like it myself. He said it was classified. I figured maybe he had that traumatic stress thing. Thought it was my Christian duty to give one of our fighting boys a helping hand."

"I'm glad he had someone looking out for him." Gibbs was sincere in hius thanks.

Tom nodded, relaxing slightly in the face of the Agent's obvious concern. "He had a pretty hard time with it at first, what with the fever and all. Then he refused to eat or drink anything, unless he'd seen Margaret making it in the kitchen. Was almost a week before you could walk into the room without him flinching. Even now, he won't let anyone touch him."

"Yeah," Gibbs sighed. "I kinda figured that."

There were countless ways to wear down a man. Deprivation of sleep robbed you of stamina, drugs in food and water took away any sense of control, torture was brutal, but effective, and psychological conditioning could seep over you, changing moods and perspective without you even being aware of it. He had no idea what Petrovich had done to Tony to make him like this.

But he knew it was bad.

"Is he in some kind of trouble?" Tom worried.

"He's not a criminal. He's a Federal Agent. His actions saved lives. Mine included."

"You've been worried about him."

"Yes." Gibbs saw no reason to deny it

"One of those with too much pride to go home to their families," Tom nodded. "I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs. When we saw the newscasts Margaret said we should say something. But your boy was so set against it, we were afraid he would take off and we didn't like to think of him out there among strangers."

"Don't blame, Tom." Tony moved slowly into the room, fixing his former Boss with a cold look. "I asked him not to call."

Gibbs knew he had to tread carefully. He'd seen men come back from captivity before. It was never pretty. They struggled to reclaim the scattered pieces of their lives, their souls, no longer trusting their own feelings or having any confidence in the security of the world around them.

"The Tony DiNozzo I know would never leave NCIS." He said quietly, but firmly.

Tony pressed his lips together a little tighter, as he deliberately stepped up into Gibbs personal space, speaking with a quiet venom that the ex-marine had only heard him use with rapists and child molesters.

"The Tony DiNozzo you knew trusted you with his life. I believed in you, more than anyone I'd ever met. I never thought you would abandon me. But I was in agony and you just walked out on me, so don't blame me for doing the same thing."


	9. Chapter 9

Gibbs' expression didn't alter as he stepped up into Tony's personal space, his voice deathly quiet as he locked eyes with his Agent, holding him in his steady gaze.

"You want to try that again, DiNozzo?"

"Anthony DiNozzo is dead," the younger man retorted coldly. "You don't get to give me orders any more."

Gibbs watched incredulously as Tony pointedly turned his back. Without a backward glance, the younger man was out the door and halfway across the yard. Shaking his head, Gibbs yanked at the door.

"Hey!"

The bark was the only warning he got, before Gibbs took him down, pinning him to the ground. Tony spat dust from his mouth as Gibbs leant over to hiss in his ear, his breath ghosting across Tony's cheek, even as he pulled out his cuffs. "The Tony DiNozzo I know argued with me to leave him. He wanted to do his duty, to save lives and serve his country. He is a fine man and a better agent. He wouldn't run from anything. Especially not a job he would die for and people he loves more than his own life. If he won't come home it's because he can't."

"Boss. .."

"Just shut the hell up, DiNozzo," Gibbs advised, as he made short work of securing the cuffs. "Another word out of you, right now, and I might just shoot you."

"Should I call the Sheriff's Department?" Tom worried, from behind them, not entirely sure whether he was asking Gibbs or DiNozzo.

"No!" Both chorused.

"Gibbs, c'mon," DiNozzo pleaded, his voice taking on an undercurrent of despair, as he was hauled to his feet. "You don't want to do this."

"The hell, I don't." Gibbs was truly angry now, as he stepped right up into Tony's face and spoke with quiet fury. "I never stopped looking for you. I never believed for a second that you were dead. I will _not_ give up on you and I'll be dammed if I'll let you give up on yourself."

"What if I don't have that choice?" Tony snapped. "What if the option of being Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was just taken away from me?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, all colour drained from his face and he stumbled backwards, desperate to put some space between himself and Gibbs, until the ex-Marine's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Show me your arm."

"Go home, Gibbs," Tony backed up another step. "Go back to Washington, catch the bad guys, kiss Abby, swap stories with Ducky, drink your coffee, live your life. Just go."

"Not without you."

"You wouldn't like working with Todd, Boss," Tony was babbling now. "He's not the smartest tool in the toolbox. Gonna get you killed."

Gibbs simply stepped up and further closed the gap between them. Never for an instant taking his eyes off the man he loved like a son, dertermined on his course.

"Um, Agent Gibbs?" Tom warned. "Like I said, he's pretty uncomfortable about being touched."

Gibbs simply ignored him, waiting until he was eye to eye with his Agent, then, not breaking eye contact, he tugged gently at the sleeve of the dark blue overalls, until he revealed the wound site, his eyes widening at the blood seeping through the piece of rag serving as a makeshift bandage.

"I thought you said you took care of this?" He snapped at Tom.

"We did," Tom nodded, looking bemused. "Margaret used to be a nurse. She cleaned it up real nice."

"That wound is fresh," Gibbs looked at his senior field Agent, who had looked away and was now studiously avoiding eye contact. "Something you want to share, DiNozzo?

* * *

The small, one room, apartment above the garage, was a far cry from the tastefully furnished two-bedroom condo DiNozzo had rented in DC. What little furniture there was, was old and threadbare, a small television, a hideous floral couch, a pitted mirror and a kitchenette out of the fifties, with a bathroom to match and a small dog lying on the couch, who had growled at Tony when he tried to shoo her off. But what struck Gibbs was the almost complete lack of personal belongings. A few magazines and a pair of running shoes were the only things recognisably DiNozzo's.

"You get those pictures yet, Duck?" Gibbs spoke quietly into his cell.

"Indeed, I did," The MD's tone was distracted as he opened the images Gibbs had taken on his phone and e-mailed back to the morgue. "You know, I always suspected that you couldn't be as inept with modern technology as you pretend and still remain in employment in a Federal Agency. Still, I suppose it makes young Timothy feel useful."

"The pictures, Duck?"

"Oh my, Jethro," The MD breathed, as he scanned the images. "I quite understand why you wanted me to keep this under wraps for now. These really are most distressing."

"I just need to know if what Tony said is possible, Duck."

"Theoretically, yes. The surgical scarring on Anthony's chest is consummate with a fairly invasive procedure requiring an operating theatre and general anaesthetic. It would then be quite feasible to implant a small explosive device in the chest cavity. But you can't really believe that Petrovich would go to such lengths?"

"What's important is that DiNozzo believes it. What about his arm?"

"It's quite a mess, I'm afraid. The repeated cuts make it impossible to view the original incision. That bastard clearly wasn't satisfied with a nice, neat, surgical proceedure; he wanted to twist the knife, has been doing over several weeks, unless I miss my guess."

"Not Petrovich." Gibbs sighed.

"Jethro, you're surely not suggesting that Anthony did that to himself?" Mallard was shocked.

"They told him they'd put a tracker chip in his arm. If he made any attempt to go back to Washington and his old life, they'd remote trigger the bomb. In DiNozzo's position what would you do, Duck?"

"Oh, my," The distress in the MD's tone matched what Gibbs was feeling. He couldn't begin to imagine what DiNozzo had been going through day after day, night after night, denying himself the simplest human contact, in case he put those around him at risk, sitting alone in his apartment, gritting his teeth, as he took the knife to his own arm. "But Jethro, this is all purely speculation, there's really no way of knowing what Petrovich actually did, without a scan."

"I know. Think you can fix that up for us?"

"I'll make some calls," Mallard promised. "Although, we both know how Tony felt about Hospitals before his incarceration. If Petrovich used medical procedures as part of his interrogations, he's not going to come quietly."

"Just make the calls, Duck. You let me worry about DiNozzo."

Snapping his hand piece shut Gibbs bent over with a sigh to absently pet the scruffy mixed breed dog. The dog's jaw lolled open happily and she rolled onto her back, wiggling her feet in appreciation. As Gibbs rubbed her stomach, he glanced up, and through the mirror, caught sight of DiNozzo's expression as he emerged from the bathroom. He was watching that act of simple affection, with such a look of such wistfulness, that it made Gibbs chest ache. Straightening up, he turned and smiled a welcome, as if he hadn't just seen the younger man bare his soul.

"You got any coffee around here?"

* * *

Gibbs studiously ignored the little sideways glances DiNozzo kept shooting at him as he fixed two mugs of coffee. Left to his own devices, the younger man would spit it out sooner or later. And right now, Gibbs was willing to give him all the time he needed to get his head on straight.

"It's just instant." Tony warned

"Its still coffee," Gibbs' accepted the mug, making sure to meet DiNozzo's eyes. "And the company's pretty good."

"Thanks," Tony's smile turned a little shy, as he stood awkwardly, when Gibbs settled on the sofa. "I'd offer you a shot of bourbon, but I'm all out."

"I'm not."

Gibbs reached into his jacket and pulled out his silver hip flask, pouring a generous measure into each mug, before carefully replacing the top and putting it away. Raising his mug to take a healthy swallow he surveyed the younger man, noting the hollow cheeks and way the clothes hung off the too thin frame.

"I spoke to Ducky, he's gonna make a few calls and get back to us."

Tony cradled his mug in both hands, turning it around a little as he struggled to find the words he needed. Then he remembered who he was talking to and decided to go with the direct approach.

"You think I'm crazy, Boss?"

"I think he tortured you and you survived," Gibbs shrugged. "Right now, that's pretty much all I care about."

"The whole operation was a set up," Tony sighed. "The arms deal, the bomb on the navy ship, it was all a cover. He knew that if he picked a high profile Navy target, we'd take the case. He wanted revenge on you for what happened it Russia."

"His son's death was an accident," Gibbs said woodenly. "There was nothing I could have done."

"I know," Tony nodded. "You'd never put an innocent civilian in danger if you could avoid it. Shame, Petrovich didn't know you like I do."

"You want to talk about it?"

Tony stilled and, for a long moment, Gibbs worried that he wouldn't come back from wherever he had gone. Then his voice came very softly, his expression haunted by untold hurts.

"Have you ever been tortured, Boss?"

"Yeah."

The quiet admission cost him more than he had thought possible after all these years, dredging up images and feelings that he had considered long buried, the helplessness even harder to endure than the relentless pain, each new entertainment more difficult to bear than the last, as his captors enjoyed his agony and indignity, their mocking laughter ringing in his ears and then the long hours of solitary confinement when he feared he might loose his mind. For once, he didn't try to hide his feelings and Tony nodded softly, accepting the moment as the gift of trust it was. He still didn't speak, but he did come to sit beside him.

It was a start, Gibbs decided.

"Hey," He spoke softly, snagging the younger man's attention, determined to keep him from drowning in painfull memories, reaching out a hand to rub the warm skin on the back of his neck in a fond caress. "It'll pass. You will get through this."

"I haven't have sex in months, Boss," Tony scoffed lightly. "Does that sound like the Anthony DiNozzo you know and love?"

"Want me to call Ziva?" Gibbs asked with a straight face. "Maybe, she can diffuse you."

Tony gave a rueful smile, maybe Gibbs was right. Maybe, he could get through this after all. Except, he bit his lip, unwilling to bite the bullet, but needing to know.

"Ducky want me to have a scan?"

"Uh huh." Gibbs tried to make it sound unthreatening.

"I .. Boss," Tony was completely unperpared for the wave of terror and helplessness that engulfed him. "I don't think I can."


	10. Chapter 10

Gibbs didn't comment as Tony fidgeted ceaselessly across from him in the booth, tapping his fingers on the table, jiggling his leg, tearing up his napkin. When a door slammed, causing DiNozzo to jump a foot and knock over his water, he merely righted the glass and used a napkin to mop up the spill.

"Sorry." Tony apologised.

"First person who startled me after I got back, I tried to strangle them," Gibbs recalled. "I'd say you're doing pretty well."

A single glance at DiNozzo's meagre store of groceries had been enough to convince him that they should go out to dinner. And he needed to get Tony used to being around people if they were ever to make it to the Hospital. So, he'd simply ignored the spike of fear in Tony's eyes at the suggestion and led the way with the same sense of steady purpose he'd used on raw recruits their first time out under fire. Even so, he heaved a sigh of relief when their waitress turned out to be a matronly woman, more interested in mothering DiNozzo than flirting with him.

"Are you ready to order?"

Without looking at the menu, Gibbs asked for a T Bone steak, medium rare, sipping at his coffee whilst DiNozzo spent a few moments carefully studying the menu, with a small frown before declaring.

"I'll have a plain omelette, please."

"You want fries with that, honey?" The waitress prompted. "Or something to drink?"

"Water's fine."

Exasperated, Gibbs plucked the menu of his Agent's hand, scanning it quickly. DiNozzo was already several pounds light for his liking. Spotting one of the younger man's favourites, he ordered that, quelling Tony's attempt at protest with a look.

"I'm buying."

Tony said nothing as they waited for their food to arrive. Gibbs tried not to worry about the uncharacteristic silence, or the way DiNozzo's eyes were constantly vigilant, discreetly tracking each group of customers as they came in.

"Here you go," The waitress slid two plates onto the table. "You enjoy now."

Even as he thanked her, Gibbs was watching DiNozzo with concern. The younger man looked sick, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"Problem?"

"I think he fed me this once," Tony paled at the memory. "Afterwards, it felt like my gut was on fire. He used to drug all my meals. Some days I tried not to eat, but then they just injected the drugs and made sure I got an extra punishment that day."

Gibbs jaw clenched, as he filed away that new piece of information. He knew he couldn't protect Tony for ever. Petrovich was a high profile figure and Washington would expect answers. But Gibbs would be dammed if he'd start interrogating him, before he'd even managed to get a square meal into him.

"You want to share my steak?"

He quickly sliced the huge piece of beef into small, random, cubes. Pushing his plate into the centre of the table, he deliberately speared a piece, chewed and swallowed, then watched with an enormous sense of pride and affection as DiNozzo initially hesitated and then, in a rush of courage, followed his lead.

"Atta boy." He praised softly.

* * *

"That's it," Tony swallowed one last mouthful of ice-cream and threw down his spoon. "I can't eat any more."

"You sure?" Gibbs dipped his spoon back into the sundae, easing aside the ice-cream to target the pool of chocolate sauce in the bottom. "This is good."

"Gibbs I probably ate more in the last hour than I've eaten for the last two weeks, I feel like I'm about to explode," Tony exaggerated. Then his smile froze and he winced, as he recalled the reality of his situation. "Bad choice of words."

"_DiNozzo."_

Gibbs shook his head. There was no way he would have brought Tony out if he had thought he was really a threat to public safety. If he was in his right mind DiNozzo would have realised that. But after weeks of Petrovich and his mind games, it was going to take more than a few reassuring words to convince him. Hopefully, the scan tomorrow would set him straight.

"I need to go use the head." Tony declared.

"You want me to come with you?" Gibbs offered with total sincerity.

"I think I can remember what to do."

"Alright," Gibbs shrugged. "You've got five minutes before I come looking."

He grinned slightly at the look DiNozzo gave him as he walked away. He paid their bill, leaving a generous tip then sipped peaceably at his coffee he waited. Two minutes. Three. At four minutes he was craning his neck in the direction of the men's room at the back of the diner. Five minutes dead and he was on his feet, weaving through the small crowd and pushing open the heavy wooden door. The room was empty, the single stall unoccupied. A window above the sink was wide open and in the basin below, a discarded bandage and fresh drops of blood.

"Damn."

Using the basin as a step he launched himself out of the window, eyes instantly locking on the fleeing figure. Setting off in pursuit, his anger mounted at the small spots of blood littering the trail. Luckily for him, DiNozzo was seriously out of condition, it only took a minute to start gaining on him.

"DiNozzo!"

The shout had no effect, but he was closer now. Close enough to hear the ragged breathing and the fear filled gasps, as Tony pushed his body restlessly onwards, taking one precious second to look behind him at the gaining pursuer, with wide terrified eyes, before going down hard as he tripped on the uneven ground. Gibbs was on him at once, flipping him over onto his back and straddling him, putting one hand on either side of his head, leaning over so they were almost nose to nose.

"Stand down!"

Gibbs knew how this worked. It would take a moment for the input he was receiving to make its way past the adrenalin coursing through DiNozzo's veins. He watched the younger man's nostrils flare as he drank in the smell of him, then he saw his eyes flicker as he processed the familiar touch of the firm, calloused, hands on either side of his face. Only then did DiNozzo trust his own eyes, licking his lips, before asking tentatively.

"Gibbs?"

"That's Boss, to you," Gibbs reminded him, as he hauled him to his feet. "Knife."

"Um," Tony looked helplessly at his arm. Despite the blood running freely from the fresh wound, he had no recollection of doing that, or what he had used to do it. Checking his pockets, he looked at the blood smeared pen-knife in horror. "Boss, I don't remember ..."

"I know, DiNozzo," Gibbs managed to sound at once sympathetic and incredibly weary. Producing a handkerchief he pressed it to the wound and placed Tony's hand over it. "Hold that."

* * *

Tony didn't speak on the way back and Gibbs was too busy trying to get his own emotions under control to provide reassurance. As soon as they got back to the apartment he dumped his overnight bag by the door and headed towards the kitchen and the small first aid box.

"Sit."

Sinking obediently on the sofa, DiNozzo tracked his movements warily. Gibbs simply ignored him as he knelt beside him, cleaning out the wound with deft movements as Tony did his best not to flinch. Then he covered it with a fresh gauze pad, before wrapping it in a clean bandage and tying the ends off neatly.

"You use some complicated sailor's knot that can only be undone using both hands?" Tony joked nervously.

"And what would be the point in that, DiNozzo?" Gibbs challenged. "When you could just cut it with the dammed knife?"

"Oh," Tony made a face. "Hadn't thought of that."

Gibbs slammed the utensils back into the box, with a little more force than was strictly necessary, than swung by his overnight back to dig out his coffee supply. Stowing the medical supplies under the sink, he spooned several scoops of coffee into the pot, then, after a moment's thought added one more.

"Hit the rack, DiNozzo," He ordered curtly. "We want to be on the road before sun up."

"Gibbs."

"DiNozzo, I swear if you even try to apologise."

"What are you so mad at me for?" Tony flared, anger driving him to his feet and across the room. "I don't even remember what happened."

"What the hell were you thinking, running away like that?" Gibbs' tone was clipped with fury.

He knew at once that the younger man had misunderstood. Tony stiffened, as if Gibbs had physical struck him, his eyes wide and his face drained of all colour. When he spoke his voice was laced with pain and anger.

"So I embarrassed you, because I acted like a human being instead of some kind of by the book NCIS Agent?"

"This isn't about you being an NCIS Agent." Gibbs tried to explain.

"I told you right off the bat, Gibbs," Tony's voice was thin with self derision. "I'm not cut out to be a Marine."

"Did I ever, once, ask you to enlist?" Gibbs was frustrated.

"Then what is your problem?"

"You are," Gibbs shot back. "You've been with me almost five years, DiNozzo. Haven't you learnt anything yet?"

"I was scared, Gibbs," It hurt his pride to admit it, but it was true. One minute he had been standing in the men's room, washing up, and the next he had been running, the pain in his arm and the scent of blood in his nostrils driving him forward. "Something happened and I got scared and I ran away. What was I supposed to do?"

Gibbs looked at him for a long moment and the raw hurt in his expression took Tony's breath away. He might joke with ZIva and McGee that Gibbs had Vulcan blood in his veins, but he knew first hand the depth of caring and compassion this man was capable of. He had just never realised before that he had the power to hurt Gibbs so deeply.

"Boss?" The word was a plea.

"You have a problem, DiNozzo," Gibbs held his gaze. "You run to me."

* * *

He figured he'd been sitting out on the steps for about five minutes when Tony came looking for him. Which got him points for guts, even Ziva would have waited until he needed a refill. Without waiting for an invitation, the younger man settled beside him on the step.

"Boss, I've got a problem."

In spite of himself the corner of Gibbs' lips quirked. As apologies went, it was a pretty dammed good one. That didn't mean he was going to make it easy for him.

"Something, I can help you with, Special Agent DiNozzo?"

"Well for starters, I could really use some coffee and that's my only mug."

Gibbs turned his head slowly, raising an eyebrow incredulously. Only DiNozzo would think it was a good idea to reconcile with an already extremely pissed Leroy Jethro Gibbs by stealing his coffee. But judging by the expression on DiNozzo's face he was deadly serious. The night air was warm enough, but DiNozzo had so little flesh on his bones Gibbs didn't want to risk him getting chilled.

"Help yourself," He handed over the mug. "I can always make another pot."

"I thought you said we had to be up early?" Tony asked, even as he accepted the mug.

"You been doing much sleeping lately?" Gibbs asked knowingly.

"If you can call waking up in a cold sweat every couple of hours, gasping for breath, sleeping," Tony acknowledged. "You think maybe I have PTSD?"

"Well, I don't know, DiNozzo," Gibbs rolled his eyes. "You've been kidnapped, drugged, tortured, and convinced that someone has put a bomb in your chest. What do you think?"

"Yeah, about that," Tony sighed. "Is the Hospital part really necessary?"

"Didn't we already talk about this?" Gibbs gave him a serious look. "One scan. No drugs. No surgery."

"Except if they find something." Tony worried.

Gibbs sighed and reached into his pocket to pull out his silver identity bracelet. Tony's eyes widened slightly at the sight of it.

"It was gone when I woke up," He admitted awkwardly. "I thought one of Petrovich's goons must have taken it."

"Petrovich left it for me, to remind me that I hadn't kept my promise to you," Gibbs gave him a sideways look. "Still haven't."

"Boss," Tony scrubbed at his face, feeling his emotions very close to the surface. Gibbs had promised he'd come back for him and that meant he wouldn't be satisfied until he'd clawed back every inch of Anthony DiNozzo, body, mind and soul, from Petrovich's clutches. And right now, Tony was terrified that was never going to happen. "I'm not sure .."

"I am," Gibbs reached over and fastened the bracelet securely back around DiNozzo's wrist. "You just hold on to that."

"Boss," Tony swallowed hard, the unaccustomed weight felt oddly comforting. "You don't have to do this. I mean, I didn't take very good care of it last time and I know how much it means to you."

The slap to the back of his head wasn't as hard as it might have been, but there were no half measures about the force of the glare that accompanied it.

"Not as much as me," Tony nodded. "Got it, Boss."


	11. Chapter 11

Tony hadn't planned to sleep, but sprawled beside Gibbs on the hideous floral couch he had eventually succumbed to his exhaustion. Allowing himself a small smile, Gibbs had shrugged out of his jacket and covered the younger man, standing up to turn off the small TV and refill his coffee cup, before settling in to keep watch.

"Urgh."

The next morning Tony opened his eyes slowly, taking in the rich smell of coffee and the tantalising aroma of pancakes cooking. He stretched slightly feeling sweaty and generally scuzzy, but unusually well rested. Only to freeze as memory came flooding back. Petrovich. A wave of panic hit him, as he realised he couldn't remember where he was or how he had got wherever 'here' was. Hastily, he closed his eyes again and pretended still to be asleep while he tried to work things out.

"Tony?"

Not Gibbs he reminded himself. Alright, so what if he _did_ take some comfort in the fact that, on the really bad days, the ex-gunny would show up. Leaning against the wall and offering his usual gruff sympathy and support as Petrovich did his worst. But if he started to believe that that Gibbs was _real_, then he really would be loosing his mind. He was really trying to avoid that.

"DiNozzo!"

Now _that_ Gibbs was real.

He opened his eyes and instinctively flinched back at the spectre of a extremely pissed looking Leroy Jethro Gibbs looming over him. No, not really pissed, he amended, as he took in the slant of the eyes and the set of the jaw, worried.

"Sorry, Boss. Bad Karma."

"Petrovich is dead, DiNozzo," Gibbs' expression was unreadable. "You shot him."

"I did?" Tony considered that. "Good."

Gibbs eyed him closely for a moment. Opened his mouth, then clearly changed his mind about whatever it was he was going to say.

"Go wash up. Pancakes are almost ready.

Tony had levered himself to a sitting position, scrubbed at his eyes, pushed himself to his feet and was almost halfway to the bathroom before he realised.

"Boss, I didn't have any pancake mix."

"You had eggs, flour and milk," Gibbs shrugged. "No syrup. But melted butter's pretty good."

"Never understand how any woman could divorce you, Boss.

No matter how nervous he was, breakfast was definitely on his agenda this morning. He would have gnawed his own arm off if he thought it would prevent the hospital giving him a general anaesthetic. Even so, it felt good to eat something that tasted of actual ingredients and he could be sure was one hundred percent safe. When he was finished, he put down his fork with a satisfied grin.

"Thanks, Boss."

"You can thank me by taking a shower," Gibbs crossed to his over night bag and dug through until he found the items he was looking for. Then, turning back to his Agent he loaded him up with a change of clothes and topped it off with a shaving kit. "I spoke to Ducky. He's going to meet us at the Hospital with a Dr Abrahams. We're leaving in fifteen."

"Boss, these are my things," Tony realised with a start. "Why do you have my things?"

"Gee, I don't know, DiNozzo, maybe, because I was out looking for you?"

Tony fingered the soft, expensive, material with a sense of awe. God he'd missed his clothes. But what really brought a lump to his throat was that Gibbs had understood what this would mean to him. Wearing his own clothes would be like taking a piece of his life back.

"Twelve minutes, DiNozzo."

"On it, Boss."

* * *

Riding shot gun with Gibbs, wearing his favourite black sweater and co-ordinating pants, he could almost pretend the last few weeks had never happened. As they arrived at the Hospital, Gibbs gave him a searching look.

"You ready for this?"

"Yeah, I can do this."

Except, as soon as the sight and smells of the Hospital hit him, he simply froze. Gibbs was a couple of strides ahead before he noticed DiNozzo was no longer at his shoulder. Turning back saw the younger man standing stock still on the threshold, looking slightly green. Shaking his head softly Gibbs retraced his steps to stand directly in front of his agent.

"I just .. I need a minute, Boss." Tony couldn't look at him.

"Only gonna make it worse," Gibbs counselled quietly. "Best to face it head on."

"Couldn't we just skip it?" Tony stalled. "I saw a movie theatre down the street. They're showing "Casablanca." That's a great movie. We could get some popcorn and a couple of sodas and just kick back for a while."

"We could," Gibbs agreed. "Still gonna be waiting for us, afterwards."

"Clock's ticking, huh?" Tony sighed.

He swallowed visibly, before straightening his shoulders and gathering his courage. He forced himself to take a step forward, and then another, until they reached the elevator, but he couldn't control the way his gut started to clench or how his limbs began to tremble.

"You're doing just fine." Gibbs soft murmur was reassuring.

"Are you okay" A man paused, taking in the pained expression and the drops of sweat on his forehead. "Do you want me to fetch a nurse?"

"No, I'm fine," Tony managed between gritted teeth. "Thanks anyway."

"Are you sure?" The man frowned uncertainly, clearly not convinced as he peered a little more closely at DiNozzo. "Say, don't I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so. I'm not from around here."

"Elevator's here," Gibbs cut in, anxious to get this over with.

"On your six, Boss."

As he stepped inside the car, Gibbs grinned softly at the ingrained response. But when he looked across at DiNozzo, the younger man was staring at his shaking hands and grimacing in self recriminating disgust,

"Man, I hate this."

"Yeah well, only gonna get worse," Gibbs' deadpanned. Last thing DiNozzo needed was to start feeling sorry for himself. "Ducky's got almost three months worth of stories saved up for you to hear."

* * *

Dr Ben Abrahams had turned up in jeans and a grey sweat shirt, carrying a basket ball. DiNozzo had been given a physical exam and prepped for the scan while the two of them swapped statistics and argued good naturedly over whose team had the best chances this season.

"Where on earth did you find this guy, Duck?" Gibbs murmured with rare, genuine, admiration.

"I thought it best to keep things low key." Ducky shrugged modestly.

Gibbs eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as he watched the way Abrahams moved, always signalling his intentions before touching DiNozzo, avoiding loaded vocabulary like 'test' and 'patient', and taking the younger man's occasional unexplained flinch in his stride.

Not his first case of PTSD.

"Ex-Medical Corps?" He guessed.

"Very good, Jethro. We'll make an investigator out of you yet."

Only as Abrahams helped DiNozzo onto the table to be loaded into the scanner did the ex-cop's courage falter, his eyes desperately scanning the room as he tried to see past the physician.

"Gibbs?"

"Right here, DiNozzo."

Gibbs moved to stand by the table. Tony looked up at him, forcing himself to grin. Desperately, trying to think of something funny to say, to mask the sheer terror he was feeling. Instead, he found himself lost for words as Gibbs simply reached out and squeezed his hand, offering a comfort Tony couldn't bring himself to ask for.

"Get your ass in gear, DiNozzo," Gibbs' said gruffly. "And let's get this over with."

The wait as the machine gradually built up its layered coloured images was agonising. But once it was done the results were so clear that even Gibbs could see. Picking the printout up off the printer tray he looked at it closely for a few moments before rubbing at his face.

"Aw, hell."

"Jethro," Ducky stood at his shoulder. "Perhaps I should ..?"

"No, Duck. I'll do it.

As he broke the news he watched Tony's reaction carefully. The younger man's face was completely expressionless.

"Nothing? Are you sure?"

"See for yourself."

"It can't be," Tony snatched the printout, staring at it, as if unwilling to believe his own excellent eyesight. "It has to be there!"

"Look on the bright side, DiNozzo. There's nothing wrong with you."

"He lied to me." Tony breathed. "That bastard lied to me!"

The realisation hit like a shower of ice water. All these weeks and months, he could have been home, at his desk, in his apartment, with his friends, living his life. All that fear and loss had been for nothing. _Nothing._ Surging to his feet, Tony swept an array of medical equipment off a trolley, before sending it slamming into a wall. Turning to Gibbs with wild eyes, his legs buckled and he would have fallen if Gibbs hadn't caught him and gone down with him, pulling his back against his chest.

"Easy."

Tony felt his chest burn and his throat close up as he struggled to deal with his rage and helplessness. "McGee's never gonna let me here the last of this," Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained and false. "And Ziva. She'll probably just shoot me. And Abby. How am I going to tell Abby that I let her worry for weeks and weeks for no good reason?"

"You let me worry about Abby." Gibbs rested his chin on the dark head. "Everything's gonna be just fine."

"Jethro," Ducky stood in the doorway, looking grave. "I think we have a problem."


	12. Chapter 12

Gibbs really didn't care that the media circus that descended on the Hospital to record the safe return of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was entirely of his own making. He just wanted it gone. A whole hour after the story broke ZNN was still replaying the original interview with the man from the lobby.

"_So, then I took a closer look at the guy and I realised why he seemed so familiar. His face had been all over the news the other week and they guy that was with him, that was his Boss, Special Agent Gibbs, the one they interviewed. That's when I was sure it was him."_

"_And how did Special Agent DiNozzo seem to you?"_

"Jethro," Jenny protested. "I already spoke with the Hospital Administrator. He said that as long as they don't attempt to gain access to the building there's nothing he can do. Apparently, this is a free country."

"Not for DiNozzo."

"It's a Hospital, Jethro. Not a Federal prison. And as long as DiNozzo is inside the media can't touch him. Maybe, it wouldn't do any harm to have him admitted. You said yourself this Dr Abrahams seems like a good man and .."

"No Jen. No Hospitals." Gibbs was adamant.

It wasn't just that he had given DiNozzo his word. He could see what this place was doing to him. After everything all of Petrovich's tricks and tortures, it was like asking a hydrophobic to get over his fear of water by going for a dip in the middle of the Atlantic.

"PTSD is a serious condition. You're not going to be able to fix DiNozzo with a couple of shots of Jack and a slap upside the head." Jenny cautioned.

"I've got it covered."

"Really?" Jen wasn't about to let this go.

"Already made the call. Priscilla is expecting us. We're going to drive up there tomorrow."

"You're taking him to see Priscilla Andrews?" Jenny frowned. "I thought she retired."

"Last year," Gibbs agreed. "She's doing me a favour."

"Jethro, I appreciate that you want to do your best for your Agent. And DiNozzo will still have a job here, just as soon as he's declared medically fit to return to duty. But you're a full time Federal Agent you can't just give up your life to nursemaid him."

"_Nursemaid_, Jen?"

"You know what I mean. You have responsibilities here. What about the rest of your team?"

"Right now, I need my team up here. We still have a kidnapping to investigate, or had you forgotten, Director?"

"No, of course not," Jenny sighed. If she was completely honest the circumstances of DiNozzo's abduction _had_ got a little overlooked in the melee over his return. The CIA and the FBI would both want the circumstances of Petrovich's death verified, not to mention MI5 and a host of other international agencies. "I'll square things this end. And Jethro? Give DiNozzo my best."

* * *

Gibbs quietly pushed open the door, to see DiNozzo lying on his side on the couch in the doctor's lounge, his jaw slightly open, one arm hugging the pillow, the other hanging down, as the Doctor gently removed a blood pressure cuff. 

"How's he doing, Duck?"

"Right now, he's completely exhausted. I doubt that the second coming would wake him. So, I took the opportunity to give him something of a physical. He's a little malnourished, although given Anthony's usual food preferences, and his rather limited budget, I suppose that is only to be expected, he's lost considerable muscle tone, which suggests long periods of confinement, and some quite serious neglect I'm afraid."

"DiNozzo said something about punishments?"

"Well, apart from the scars you know about I can't find any other surgical incisions. But beatings appear to have been quite frequent. I've written it all in my report."

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs sighed.

"He'll get through this, Jethro."

"Is that a question or a statement, Duck?"

"You know, you always ask me that and I .."

Both men turned as the door opened to admit Dr Abrahams, a worried expression on his face. Gibbs looked at the manila folder he was holding and raised a curious brow.

"You're just pulling his Medical records now?"

"Not exactly," Abrahams looked uncomfortable. "His records don't list any family."

"That's right. They don't."

"Is there a problem, Benjamin?" Ducky enquired.

"It's just that I needed to look up DiNozzo's legal next of kin. And it turns out the only person listed is Special Agent Gibbs, here. In my experience people rarely chose a friend or co-worker unless their biological family are deceased."

"I believe that Anthony's biological mother died some time ago," Ducky admitted. "And his relationship with his father isn't close. As I understand it, they haven't spoken in several years."

"Well, it looks as if his son's resurrection has given the old man a change of heart. He's just along the hall, demanding to be allowed to dictate his son's medical care."

"Over my dead body." Gibbs declared.

* * *

Gibbs strode purposefully along the hallway. He had had one hell of a few days and he was spoiling for a fight. If David DiNozzo wanted to be the one to give it to him, the ex-Marine wasn't about to disappoint. 

"Jethro," Ducky's hand on his arm stopped him dead. "Let me handle this."

"Duck, if that man thinks that he can just waltz in here, after all this time, and start playing happy families ..."

"Have you even considered that the shock and grief of losing his son might just have opened his eyes to what he was missing?"

"He doesn't give a rat's ass about DiNozzo. He's here so he can get power of attorney over those dammed voting shares."

"You don't know that Jethro. Can't you at least give the man a chance?"

"Tony's just had weeks of Petrovich messing with his mind, Duck. He doesn't need his father coming in here and completing the job."

Even so, as he approached, and saw the lines of strain around David DiNozzo's eyes and the haunted expression, he felt a flickering of sympathy. The man looked like he had aged several years in the last couple of weeks.

"Special Agent Gibbs, it seems I have you to thank for finding my son."

"Its wasn't that hard," Gibbs couldn't resist the barb, this man had had the entire resources of the DiNozzo empire at his finger tips and he had done _nothing_ to find his son. "I was looking."

"And you have my gratitude. But now that Anthony has been returned to us, I will be assuming responsibility for his care. I have already spoken to a clinic in Geneva. I wish to make arrangements to fly Anthony there as soon as possible."

"Mr DiNozzo," Abrahams cut in. "Your son has PTSD. I'm sure that it is an excellent clinic. But right now, what Tony really needs is familiar faces around him and as little disruption as humanly possible."

"He will have his family, Doctor."

"Whom he's barely spoken to since he graduated from College," Gibbs shook his head. It stuck in his craw to suggest it, but he couldn't deny Tony if there was a chance of reconciling with his father. "Look, I've made arrangements for Tony to see someone. We'll be staying up there. Once he's stronger, there's no reason why you can't fly up and .."

"You have no authority to make arrangements for my son's care, Special Agent Gibbs that lapsed when Anthony was declared legally dead," He looked at Abrahams. "I will be taking my son and I'll expect this Hospital to begin to make the appropriate arrangements. Now, if you'll excuse me I have some urgent business to attend to."

"Duck, can he do that?" Gibbs asked, softly as he stared at the retreating back.

"He is Anthony's father," Ducky sighed. "I rather fear that he can."


	13. Chapter 13

AN - Apologies for the long delay. I have been away from any computers over the summer. This story is now complete and will be posted every few days.

* * *

Gibbs took one last, venomous, look in the direction that David DiNozzo had taken and turned on his heel, striding down the hallway before the other two had time to react.

"Jethro, were are you going?" Ducky called.

"To get Tony."

The two doctors exchanged a meaningful look before Mallard hurried to catch up with him, gaining ground just as the ex-gunny arrived back at the Doctor's lounge.

"Jethro, wait, we need to talk about this."

"Nothing to discuss, Duck."

"On the contrary," The MD disagreed. "You know, as well as I do, how much Anthony has longed for his father's attention. Oh, he makes a good show of not caring, perhaps of even being a little bitter. But we both know that he will be delighted that the man has actually come here in person to see to his welfare. If he chooses to go with him, we won't be able to stop him."

"DiNozzo is the main witness in an ongoing Federal Investigation. His ass is mine."

Mallard sighed. It was obvious to him that Gibbs was feeling guilty about not protecting DiNozzo from Petrovich and was determined to do whatever it took to safeguard him from any further harm, including his own father.

"I know, you mean well but you can't wrap the boy up in cotton wool. He needs to make his own decision about this."

"You ever been tortured, Duck?" Gibbs didn't wait for answer. "Right now, DiNozzo doesn't even know which way is up. He's in no shape to be making decisions."

"Granted Anthony has been through a very traumatic experience," Mallard fixed him with a meaningful look. "It must have been especially difficult for such an independently minded young man to endure the restrictions of confinement, not being able to influence his environment or make even the simplest of choices himself."

"Not the same thing, Duck."

Gibbs had long since learnt that DiNozzo thrived on direction. Bleary eyed and grey with exhaustion, a barked command could still snap him into action. Frustrated with a lack of leads and his confidence in his own abilities flagging, a few sharp words could get him back on track. Close to death and gasping for breath his fingers lax and weak as Gibbs pressed then around the cell he had fought as hard as any Marine.

"Gibbs," Mallard seized his arm as realisation dawned. "You have to tell him."

His only response was a cool look.

"Ducky, Agent Gibbs," Abrahams came hurrying down the hallway. "Let's just step into my office for a moment. There's something you need to see."

On the television screen Gibbs watched impatiently as a reporter from ZNN that he seemed to recall Tony had dated for a few months last summer, after they had dealt with a high profile murder case, held her microphone expectantly in front of his father's face.

"_Mr DiNozzo, you must be delighted that your son has been returned to you, safe and well?"_

"_Well, I am naturally overjoyed to hear that Anthony is alive. Although, one has to wonder what this country is coming to when a grieving parent has to learn of his son's survival through the media rather than the proper channels."_

"Oh my," Mallard worried. "I'm very much afraid our esteemed Director won't like that at all."

"_Are you saying that NCIS didn't notify you of Tony's safe return?"_

"_Not only that but, the Agent in charge, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs has taken it upon himself to personally make the arrangements for my son's medical care."_

"_Our viewers will remember that Special Agent Gibbs' became something of a celebrity after his enduring refusal to accept that his agent was dead, even at his memorial service." The reporter said as the screen cut to an image of Gibbs, his eyes burning with determination on the Church steps. " Tell me, Mr DiNozzo, what is your son's present condition?"_

"_The Hospital refuses to release any details but whether Anthony was held in confinement all this time, or was for some reason was unable to return to his previous life, we have to prepare ourselves for the possibility that there will be serious, perhaps long term, physiological damage. As his father, I naturally wish to take care of him, if he is not mentally competent to take care of himself." _

"Damn he's clever," Abrahams protested. "Now the whole of America thinks that Tony is crazy but, since its all supposition we can't do a thing about it."

"We could put out a statement declaring that Anthony is of sound mind." Mallard suggested.

"And if his father decides to drag us through the courts?" Abrahams looked concerned. "You said he's had episodes when he couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing, not to mention Petrovich practically brain washed him. If Tony wants to get back to his old life any time soon, something like that isn't going to do his career any good at all."

"That man doesn't care about Tony's career," Gibbs spat. "If he can offer sufficient grounds to suggest that DiNozzo is nuts, then he can get power of attorney over his voting shares. He hasn't been grieving for his lost son, he's been giving himself an ulcer, because his company is facing a hostile takeover.

* * *

Gibbs sighed as he stepped into the doctor's lounge and looked down at the still sleeping figure of DiNozzo. As he watched, some nightmare or other furrowed his brow, and caused him to begin tossing fitfully in his sleep in increasing distress. Gibbs took a step closer, intending to wake him from the nightmare, only to see him settled down, clutching the cushion contentedly, as he caught the reassuring scents of sawdust and plain soap.

Gibbs smiled.

"Now that's what I call trust."

A brief look of annoyance flickered across Gibbs' face. He wasn't used to people being able to sneak up on him and it was an unwelcome reminder that he had been running on fumes for weeks now.

"Something I can do for you Doc? He asked irritably.

"Rather thought there might be something could do for you," Abrahams opening the connecting door to his office. Through the door Gibbs saw two places set at the small table, with a range of bowels and plates. Gibbs nose caught hot roast beef among other things.

"Best deli in town," Abrahams smiled. "My wife's kitchen."

Gibbs glanced back at Tony but, the younger man was sleeping sounding now, as his own stomach gave an insistant growl. He was no good to DiNozzo if he was dead on his feet. Making his decision, he stepped into the next room. The walls were paper thin, if Tony so much as wimpered in his sleep, he'd hear him.

"You needn't have gone to any trouble."

"Its not trouble, Della loves to cook and she likes to do what she can to make difficult times a little easier for my patients families." Abrahams look dared Gibbs to challenge that connection.

"Doc," Gibbs sighed, trying to find the words. "There's a dammed good reason why everything he owns, including his passport, is in a box in my basement."

"Look, I know you're worried about him. And I can see why. Your boy here has been stabbed, shot at, blown up, infected with plague and Lord knows what else and he's always bounced right back. This time its different, he's scared and he's vulnerable. It's a perfectly normal reaction to a stressful situation."

"Tony's strong," Gibbs felt the need to defend him. "He'll get through this."

"I meant you, Gunny," Abrahams gave him a telling look. "You're Tony's Boss. He looks up to you. He expects you to have all the answers. He trusts you to watch his six and you left him behind."

"This your idea of a bedside manner, Doc?" Gibbs asked wearily.

"I'm not saying anything you haven't been thinking every day for the last couple of months."

"I spoke with the rest of my team," Gibbs took refuge in practicalities. "They'll be here shortly, in the meantime, I've arranged for some of local LEO's to guard DiNozzo and there's a squad car watching both sides of the building. As soon as Ziva and McGee get here we'll be moving him to a safer location."

"You're not just worried about his father are you?" Abrahams realised.

"DiNozzo took out a high profile Russian Mafia, Boss. It's a long shot but we can't rule out that there might be repercussions."

"So, it's really not true what they say," Abrahams shook his head. "All publicity isn't good publicity. If anyone is out to get DiNozzo they know exactly where to find him."

* * *

Waking up to the ache of a full bladder was not high on Tony's list of favourite ways to return to consciousness. His top ten was mostly concerned with sex or food, or a combination of food _and _sex. As he made his way towards the head, he wondered if Gibbs had thrown out the half empty jar of chocolate sauce that had been in his refrigerator.

Coming back from the bathroom, he paused as the words coming from the TV above his head, caught his attention.

"_Mr DiNozzo, you must be delighted that your son has been returned to you, safe and well?"_

Tony froze, looking up at the TV screen in the Doctor's lounge. Desperate to cover a break news story, but short on material ZNN had been rehashing and dissecting the same old interviews for a couple of hours now but, this one was a new one on him. He didn't even resister the words that came out of the man's mouth as he stared transfixed at the screen.

"I never thought I'd say this," Tony murmured. "But I really hope I'm hallucinating."

Reaching into his pocket he frowned. No cell. He knew that there was a payphone on the corner of the hallway. Opening the door a crack, he wasn't surprised to see the police officer stationed there. Gibbs was good at anticipating. Tony deliberated with himself for a monent. He was still a Fedral Agent. He wasn't about to get some hapless beat cop killed because he couldn't hold up his end. The guy probably had a wife, kids, grandchildren, even.

Not to mention that if he didn turn out to be hallucinating, then he would prefer that as few people knew about it as possible. He especially didn't want Gibbs thinking he was any more loco than he already did.

Timing his moment, he slipped silently down the hallway, when the cop was looking the other way. Plucking the reciever from its cradle, he ducked slightly around the corner, using its bulk to shield himself from casual view.

"Damn, no wallet."

Still, he could call collect. Pleased with this solution, he began to dial a number from memory, breaking into a wide grin as the call was picked up on the second ring.

"Hey Probie, did you miss me?"

"Tony!" The delight in McGee's voice was unmistakable. "How are you? Ziva, its Tony. Hold on, let me put you on speaker phone."

"Tony," Ziva's voice called. "It's good to hear your voice."

Tony opened his mouth to answer that, only to frown as he caught the ambient sounds of traffic and horns blaring.

"Probie, did you let Ziva drive again?"

"Only from the airport."

"Gibbs wants us here ASAP to help with the investigation," Ziva put in. "He is concerned that some of his people might be out for revenge and wish to shoot you."

"Ziva, I don't think you were supposed to tell him that." McGee hissed.

"Why not?" Ziva was mystified. "Surely, it is better that he knows?"

"I'm way ahead of you," Tony snapped. Frustratingly, the picture on the TV had changed to an interview with some expert on PTSD in the studio. Tony switched the phone to the other side so he could duck a little further around the corner. "What's your ETA?"

"The way Ziva is driving? About ten minutes."

"That might not be soon enough. Listen, I need you to pull up everything you can find on Petrovich's nephew. Sergi something or other."

"Already did that, Tony." McGee allowed himself to sound a little smug. "Just as soon as you disappeared."

"Well that's good, Probie," Tony's voice held a hint of reprimand. "And now I want you to do it since I reappeared. Start from now and work back. I may not have much time."

"On it," McGee admitted as he typed furiously. "Alright, here's something. He used one of his aliases this morning to book a flight. Let's see, departing JFK New York arriving .." McGee was seized with a sudden sense of urgency. "Tony's he's .."

"Right here," Tony finished for him.

"Yeah," McGee was confused. "He got into town about an hour ago. How did you know that?"

"Because I can see him walking down the hallway towards me." Tony flattened himself against the wall to buy a few more seconds.

"Do you have a weapon?" Ziva asked.

"No weapon, no cell, no wallet, and, right now, the most recognisable face on the plant," Tony almost sounded like he was enjoying this. "Tell Gibbs twenty minutes from my mark. Mark."

"Tony, wait!" McGee protested. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make like McGyver." Tony managed before the line went dead.

* * *

Gibbs hefted the bag of Chinese take out from one arm to another as he nodded at the officer on duty and reached to open the door to the Doctor's lounge. Exhausted or not, by his reckoning it had been a few hours since DiNozzo last ate and he needed to start regaining the weight he had lost if he was to make a speedy return to active duty.

Abrahams had offered some of his wife's cooking, slightly mystyfied by the ex-Marine's soft shake of the head.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Doc. I have a promise to keep."

"Little and often," Gibbs shook his head as he remembered the advice, he'd recieved on his return to civilisation. He also remembered being a stubborn SOB and trying to chow down an enormous steak at one sitting, only to have it come right back up again. "No family sized Pizza's for you, for a while, DiNozzo."

Still smiling, he opened the door, only to be hit with a sickening feeling of déjà vu. The couch was empty and DiNozzo was nowhere to be seen. As he saw Ziva and McGee hurrying down the hallway towards him he felt a sense of foreboding. Without a second thought he dumped the bag of take out in the nearest trashcan.

"Which one of us is going to tell him?" Ziva murmured.

"Do we have to?"

"Would you rather wait until he finds out for himself?"

"Good point."

"Where have you been? I needed you here yesterday, McGee," Gibbs was already impatient.

"I'm sorry, Boss. We ran into a little trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

McGee and Ziva exchanged a reluctant glance as they tried to decide who would break the bad news. In the past, as senior field agent Tony had always been the one to face Gibbs wrath and neither of them were particularly willing to take on the responsibility.

"You tell him. You're the more experienced field agent." McGee tried.

"You've worked for NCIS longer than I have. You go first. I insist." Ziva retorted.

"If I don't start getting some answers, you're both fired," Gibbs informed them curtly. "Now what kind of trouble?"

"As far as we have been about to tell. Tony saw an interview with his father on ZNN." Ziva began.

"Aw hell."

The depth of feeling in Gibbs voice caused her to pause. She knew that Tony did not get along with his father but, it was unusual for Gibbs to be so openly emotional.

"Um, Boss?" McGee swallowed hard. "That's not actually the bad news."

The Marine fixed him with a glare so intense that even after all this time working with him, Tim still felt compelled to take a step back.

"Then what is, McGee?"

"We think he saw Petrovich's nephew Sergi watching in the crowd. He phoned me to verify his whereabouts. I checked the flights and then the footage. It was definitely him, Boss."

"He take DiNozzo?"

"Um, no. At least, we don't think so."

"You don't_ think _so?" Gibbs tone was truly dangerous.

"He said to tell you twenty minutes from his mark. He has no cell, Boss. There's no way to contact him, until he can get in touch with us."

"Unless, we get a sighting," Ziva shrugged. "But with all this media attention he's bound to be in disguise."

"Exactly how long ago was this, McGee?"

"Seven minutes. What are we going to do, Boss?"

"Well, McGee, first thing we do is follow the plan."

"We wait thirteen minutes?" McGee frowned. "But Boss."

"DiNozzo can take care of himself," Gibbs was uncompromising. "You want to do something to help. Go find out how either Sergi and DiNozzo got past that idiot in the hallway."

Exactly thirteen minutes later, Gibbs looked down with a mixture of hope and trepidation as his cell phone rang, flashing an unfamiliar number.

"DiNozzo, where the hell are you?"


	14. Chapter 14

"Boss, are you sure this is the right place?" McGee murmured.

The hotel bar was a real high end establishment. Gibbs had had to flash his badge just to get in without a necktie. And McGee couldn't see anyone who looked remotely like DiNozzo.

"You expecting some seedy dive, McGee?"

"Well. Actually. Yes,"

"You get shot at in some dive nobody's going to turn a hair. Someone tries to pull a hand gun in a nice place like this, some concerned citizen will call 911," Gibbs actually sounded impressed. "Not bad, DiNozzo. Not bad at all."

"You want a sarsaparilla, Boss?"

McGee looked down, quickly hiding his surprise as the thin man in the expensive dark suit, on their right, that he had completely discounted, looked over at them. Tony looked different, harder, thinner, almost hollow. For a terrible instant, McGee felt afraid of his friend.

"Hey, Probie. Its good to see you."

Then Tony smiled as if he hadn't been imprisoned and tortured and who knew what else, at Petrovich's hands and McGee just felt ridicolously glad to see him.

"Good to see you too, Tony," McGee frowned. "Is that an Armani suit?"

"And this is my top of the line limited edition wafer thin cell," Tony held up his shiny new toy. "Why doesn't NCIS ever spring for stuff like this, Boss?"

"But how?" McGee's asked as he slid into the booth beside Gibbs. You said you had no money."

"Ah, ah," Tony waggled the phone. "A good Agent never reveals his methods, right Boss?"

Gibbs merely grunted. Part of him was glad to see that his senior field agent still had his wits about him. The other part knew from expereince that the smile was still a shade too brittle, the eyes a touch too bright. They weren't out of the woods yet.

"Your father has a suite here and this Hotel has a boutique. You charged it all to his room." McGee claimed.

"I did no such thing, Probie," Tony countered with unusual vehemence, as his expression darkened. "Even though, he still owes me a summer's worth of allowance from when he grounded me for something I did not do."

"DiNozzo." Gibbs murmured.

"Not now, Boss," Tony shook his head. "I cannot deal with him right now."

To McGee's surprise, Gibbs, who he knew was one of the most tenacious men on the planet, simply shrugged and let the thorny subject of Tony's father drop. As he was trying to figure this out he realised that his Boss was staring at his ankle.

"McGee, why aren't you wearing your backup?"

"Um," He squirmed slightly as his Gibbs simply waited. "It's been rubbing against my leg. I think the holster needs adjusting or something. But it's safe. It's locked in the trunk of the car inside my briefcase which has a combination lock."

"You mean the one where you use your sister's birthday?" Tony smirked. "You'd think someone who was so good with figures would have been able to come up with something a bit more original."

"It was a present from her. She picked the combination," McGee defended himself. Then he paled. "Tony, you didn't."

"Boss, did you know that since McGee became a famous author he's taken to carrying around an emergency Platinum card as well as his trusty hundred in cash?" DiNozzo waggled the card, holding it slightly out of reach when McGee tried to make a grab for it.

"That's good thinking, DiNozzo," Gibbs smirked. "At least this time I don't have to bail you out for shop lifting."

"That was a long time ago, Boss," Tony grimaced. "And it was all part of my cover. That Police cell was an excellent place to hide out from the crazed assassins."

"If you say so, DiNozzo."

"Did you have to go for top of the line?" McGee groused.

"I have an image to maintain," With an extravagant gesture, Tony pulled out his Ray Bann sunglasses and perched them carefully on his nose. "Not to mention, really, really, expensive tastes."

"You're telling me," McGee's eyes bulged. "Tony, its practically winter!"

"McGee!" Gibbs snapped. "Don't you think we have more important things to worry about right now?"

"Sorry, Boss."

"DiNozzo, report."

"I lost Sergi back at the Hospital, Boss but, this is a small town, it shouldn't be too hard to see that our paths cross."

"You want to meet up with him?" McGee was confused. "I thought the idea was to keep away from him."

"Oh, I only plan to get close enough to do what I need to do, Probie." Tony vowed.

"Catch him." McGee nodded, thinking he understood.

"Close enough, Probie," Tony's tone was low and dangerous. "Close enough."

Looking between Gibbs and DiNiozzo, McGee recognised their unvoiced determination that Sergi wasn't getting out of this town alive. In the past he had occasionally felt out of his depth when the ex-cop or the ex-marine went into combat mode but, this time, he realised he was no less determined to see Sergi lying on Ducky's autopsy table for what he had done to his friend. Feeling oddly protective of DiNozzo, he straightened his shoulders.

"Boss, I'm sorry about the backup." He began to apologise.

"Not here, McGee," Gibbs looked around. This was not the place to do this and the men's room offered only limited privacy and insufficient exits if trouble found them. "Elevator."

As he led the way to the bank of opulent elevators with his two Agents at his heels he heard McGee's voice hiss indignantly.

"You forged my signature?"

"Probie, Mickey Mouse could forge your signature and he only has three fingers."

* * *

Almost as soon as the elevator car was in motion, Gibbs brought it to a shuddering halt. At this time of day and with five other cars to choose from he figured they would have just enough time.

"DiNozzo," He reached down to his ankle. "You take my back up."

Tony hesitated. He'd shot with Gibbs' backup before and it was a much better fit for him that McGee's weapon of choice. Still. "I don't want to leave you short, Boss."

"You won't," Gibbs assured him. "But do not use it unless you have to defend yourself. We've got your six on this one. McGee, take your back up and put it on. You have it with you, every time, or I'll cut your foot off myself. Understood?

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs pulled out his cell and hit his speed dial, putting the phone on speaker.

"Ziva, what's your position?"

"All quiet," Ziva confirmed from her post out front. "No sign of Sergi or other persons of interest."

"Keep me informed."

Gibbs snapped the cell shut, as was his custom, without saying goodbye and stuffed it back in his pocket.

"Ah, Boss, about that, whole persons of interest thing," Tony made a face. "I'm not exactly sure I was the one who shot Petrovich."

McGee waited for Gibbs to protest that Tony was only just mentioning this now but, the ex-Marine merely regarded his senior field agent with a thoughtful expression before speaking without a trace of sarcasm.

"Sergi?"

"Maybe," Tony replied, in that way of his, which meant yes. "You think perhaps he's here to make sure I can't tell anyone it was really him?"

"It would explain what we heard on the tape." McGee tried to redeem himself. "Remember, how the gunshot came right after Ton y finished talking?"

Gibbs' head came up sharply, even as Tony paled. He felt the walls press in on him and his breathing quicken as he was suddenly back in that room, looking down the barrel of that gun, even as he spilled his guts, the smells of blood and sweat and death in his nostrils as he bared his emotions.

"You all actually heard that?"

"Hey!" Gibbs reached out and grasped Tony's chin in his hand. "Later. Right now I need you to focus. Can you do that?"

"Yeah," Tony nodded as he got a hold of his emotions. "I can do that, Boss."

"Good."

Gibbs patted his face with approval before setting the elevator back in motion. McGee watched as the floors blinked past, taking them back down to reception.

"McGee, you're with Ziva," Gibbs instructed. "You watch this building. Front and back."

"You don't want us to find, Sergi, Boss?"

"No," Gibbs vetoed that. "I want him to come to us. Then we can be ready."

"On it, Boss," McGee nodded. "Um, what are you going to be doing?"

"I'm going to be watching, DiNozzo eat something."

* * *

"Here you are gentlemen, the Washington suite," The bellhop opened the door and took a few moments to explain the facilities before accepting the tip Gibbs gave him with a smile and leaving them to their own devices.

"Boss, we could just have gone to a diner."

Tony stood in the middle of the opulent sitting room, displaying none of his usual enthusiasm for the numerous gadgets or state of the art entertainment centre that Gibbs had hoped to elicit.

"Your disguise isn't that good, DiNozzo."

"But this suite has got to be expensive. And you've got three ex-wives and Abby's caff-pow habit to support."

"This was the all they had left," Gibbs decided not to mention that the suite also came with in house security, video surveillance and a private elevator, all of which would help keep DiNozzo 'off limits' to any uninvited guests. "I'm sure McGee can afford it."

"You didn't?"

For the first time a full blown DiNozzo smirk lit up Tony's features. Gibbs was so dammed glad to see it, he'd reimburse Tim for the room from his own pocket book if need be.

"The continuing adventures of LJ _Tibbs_?" Gibbs shook his head. "Who does he think he's fooling?"

"Not NCI-us, that's for sure," Tony bounced on the overstuffed couch. "Although, that part where Officer Lisa and Agent Tommy go undercovers .."

"I've read the book, DiNozzo."

"Well, you know, Boss, that part is fiction, never happened."

"Nope," Gibbs agreed. As and when Tony and Ziva started sleeping together he had no doubt that he would be able to tell. "Not yet."

"Boss," Tony opened his mouth to protest his innocence, only to pause as he read the fractional clues in Gibbs voice and body language that anyone who knew he less well would have missed. "You think we should? What about rule 12?"

"Those are my rules, DiNozzo," Gibbs shrugged. "At the time I blamed the fact that it didn't work out between me and Jen on us both being Agents. But there were other factors. It'll be different for you."

"That's not what you said with Paula Cassidy."

"Cassidy wasn't right for you," Gibbs shook his head. "She was too quick to buy into your image. Ziva can see through your crap."

"Gee Boss, when you put it like that it sounds so romantic."

"Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, DiNozzo," Gibbs wandered over to the table and pulled out a menu. "Now, pick something to eat."

"Boss, I can take care of myself."

"Well, yeah. Normally, I'd agree with you, DiNozzo. But you've had a rough couple of months." Gibbs said wearily.

Tony looked up sharply. It hadn't escaped his notice that Gibbs had been pretty much on a knife edge during this thing. He was trying hard to act like everything was normal but, that in itself was taking a strain. And he was pretty sure he knew why.

"You know, Boss," He pretended to study the menu. "The whole time Petrovich had me, I was so scared."

"DiNozzo."

"No, hear me out," Tony's eyes unfocused as he remembered. "I was terrified that I'd spill my guts and tell him everything that he wanted to know. Every time he started in on me, part of me would wonder if this was the time when I'd cave," He allowed himself a small smile. "Never did. Because every time things got really bad, it was like you were right there, talking me through. You never let me break."

"Never let yourself." Gibbs murmured.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Boss. You didn't leave me in that basement. You were with me, every step of the way, watching my six."

Gibbs smiled softly. Trust DiNozzo to hit the nail square on the head. He had almost got used to the fact that the younger man always seemed to know what he was thinking. Feeling better than he had for a long time, he went and sat down next to DiNozzo and plucked the menu out of his hand, holding it at arms length, so he could read it.

"Does this place do burgers?"


	15. Chapter 15

Tony went thorough the hotel's list of twenty four types of beef burger, like a military operation, and ordered a selection, together with fries and a choice of sides. Gibbs came out of the bathroom, and lifted the lids on one or two of the patties, before plucking the double cheese and bacon burger out of Tony's hand and starting in on that.

"What did you do for food, while I was away?" Tony grumbled without heat, as he simply moved on to another.

"Didn't eat much." Gibbs admitted.

Tony gave him a sideways look, started to say something, before looking back down at his meal, without taking a bite.

"What?" Gibbs prompted.

"Did you find any connection between my father's company and Petrovich's holdings?"

"First thing we checked when you disappeared. He's clean."

"Well, that's something," Tony forced a brittle smile. "So, he's just here because he needs my voting shares."

Gibbs sighed. He should have known that it wouldn't take Tony long to bring himself up to speed. The younger man had a knack for digging up information, whilst seeming to do nothing at all.

"Ducky thinks he missed you."

"Like he missed me when we were in Hawaii and he forgot I was even there?" Tony shook his head. "Didn't mention that in his speech at my memorial, did he?"

"You saw that?"

Tony didn't answer straight away. Watching his father stand up and tell a room full of strangers how proud he was had been a disconcerting experience. It wasn't something David DiNozzo had ever managed to say when his son was 'alive'.

"I saw you." He admitted quietly. He'd known that Gibbs would never give up looking for him but, to see the depths of the marine's feelings, right out there for the whole world to see, had almost overwhelmed him. "I'm sorry, I never wanted to put you through that."

"Yeah, I get that, DiNozzo," Gibbs turned towards him. They might as well have this out now as later. "What I don't understand is why you didn't just come home. Let Ducky take a look at you. Let Ziva diffuse you. Let McGee deprogram you. Let the team take care of it."

"I wanted to," Tony admitted. "I even picked up the phone and dialled but, I couldn't do that to you, Boss."

"But you could let me think you were dead?" Gibbs was incredulous

"At least you were alive!" Tony defended himself. "Petrovich said he had put out a contract. If I ever tried to contact you or anyone from my old life he would .."

"He'd kill you," Gibbs sighed. "I know. What I don't understand is why you didn't trust us to protect you."

"Not me. It was never about me. He'd kill you," Tony corrected. "The poison dart thing was just a dry run to show how easy it was to take you out. I couldn't take that chance, I'm sorry, Boss."

He was mortified to here the crack in his own voice. He had held things together so for long, determined that if he had to die he was going to do it like a Federal Agent and make Gibbs proud of him and that, if he had to sacrifice his own happiness to keep those he loved alive, he wasn't going to belittle that by feeling sorry for himself, at least not very much.

For his part, this was what Gibbs had been waiting for. He had known that DiNozzo couldn't keep up the pretence that he was 'fine' indefinitely. No man could. It was one of the reasons he had kept McGee and Ziva at arms length, when the inevitable happened Tony wouldn't appreciate an audience.

"Hey."

Turning him around by one shoulder, Gibbs pulled the younger man into a hug. DiNozzo still smelt of hospital and antiseptic but he was here and warm and alive. For a moment, the kid clung to him with a fierce need that made Gibbs wish he'd thought to do this earlier.

"You're alright," he soothed, cupping his hand around his bowed neck. "You're alright."

His only reply was a choked sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, as DiNozzo sagged slightly against him but then, as usual Tony was the first one to pull away.

"_Why does he always do that?" Abby had protested once. "He's always the same. Every single time."_

_As always, when Abby was upset, she had started in the middle and Gibbs was forced to ask questions to elicit even the most basic information._

"_Why does who, do what, Abs?"_

"_Tony!" Abby had burst out. "Why does he never let me hug him? Not properly. And don't tell me he doesn't like it, because he does, he always smells my hair and you never do that unless you are totally into the hug."_

"_Not seeing the problem, here."_

"_A few seconds, seconds Gibbs, not minutes, he always has some excuse, like he can't breath, or whatever part of him that got shot or stabbed or whatever is hurting him and he pulls away," Abby had looked sad. "Why would he do that Gibbs?"_

"_I'm not sure," Gibbs had drawn her into his arms and rested his own head on her hair. "Probably for the same reason that he won't let me do this."_

"_You too?" Abby had pulled back slightly, her eyes wide when she saw the truth in his expression. This was worse than she'd thought, Gibbs hugs were awesome. "It's not just me?"_

"_No," Gibbs sighed. "I think, maybe his parents didn't hug him enough as a kid, he just doesn't know how to handle it."_

"_Oh Gibbs, that's so sad," Abby had bit her lip and then brightened. "You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to hug him every day, until he gets used to it. Starting right now."_

Since then, Gibbs had often had to explain to her that these things couldn't always be put right just like that. It took time to win trust and build bridges and DiNozzo was definitely a work in progress.  
"So, Boss," By some supreme act of will, DiNozzo had pulled his feelings under control, tucking them firmly away and changing the subject with no hint of the turmoil bubbling under the surface. "How are we going to draw Sergi out?"

Gibbs' lip quirked, as he realised there was no reason they couldn't close down the operation and give Tony's rehabilitation a helping hand at the same time.

"You know, you've been out of circulation for far too long, DiNozzo, it's high time that you went out on a date."

* * *

Tony swallowed hard as he waited for Ziva to arrive. He knew that this was an undercover operation and not a 'real' date. But the preparation was the same and the old familiar, rituals, made him feel like it _was_ a date.

He was grateful for the Armarni suit and the designer shades, not to mention the premium hair care products in their suite's opulent bathroom. As he gave his hair a final tweak in the mirror, Gibbs slapped his hand away with a glare, reminding DiNozzo of the other thing he had to be grateful for.

"Thanks for going shopping for me, Boss," He smiled. "Should I be scared that you actually knew what exfoliating scrub was?"

"I know what it does, DiNozzo," Gibbs retorted. "I've had _wives._"

"You know, there is nothing un-macho about a man wanting to look his best, Gibbs." The look the ex-marine levelled at him prompted him to rush on. "Not that you don't look good, Boss."

"You done, DiNozzo?" Gibbs mock growled, knowing that he wasn't. Tony tended to ramble when he got nervous and Gibbs could hardly blame him in the circumstances.

"Seriously, Boss," Tony met his gaze, with a mixture of mischief and affection. "Couldn't you do something with the hair?"

"If I thought it would keep you from disappearing on me, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with total sincerely. "I'd grow it long enough to braid."

Tony didn't get a chance to respond to that as the door opened and Ziva stepped in, wearing a tight fitting dress, that left very little to the imagination.

"Should I wonder where you've hidden you Sig?" Tony teased.

"You can wonder," Ziva smirked. "But if you find it, I will cut your hand off."

"What if I don't use my hands?"

"If you two are quite ready?" Gibbs forced himself to sound impatient. "We have a terrorist to catch."

As they were seated in the small, exclusive, dining room, for the use of the Hotel's platinum level guests, Tony was slightly surprised when Ziva took his hand.

"You don't have to," He murmured, sotto voice. "Everyone else in here is an undercover cop. Even the waiters."

"I am a perfectionist," Ziva reached in and kissed his knuckles gently. "I do not like sloppy work. And I missed you."

"Yeah?" Tony grinned.

"Sir!, I'm sorry, Sir," They both looked up as the urgent tones of the Dectective serving as the Maitre D' cut across the room. "The restaurant is presently fully booked. You will need to wait until there is a table free."

"This is preposterous I made a booking for dinner. I expect you to find me a table."

They both looked over towards the commotion, to see David DiNozzo trying to gain entry. In their ear wicks Gibbs was threatening to disembowel whatever hapless LEO had been bullied into letting him through the security cordon.

"Damn," Tony hissed. "He's going to get himself killed."

He was on his feet and halfway across the room, taking his father by the arm and flashing his badge at the local Detective, it wasn't as if Sergi didn't already know who he was, before ushering his father aside.

"Anthony," His father's voice was thick with consternation "I had no idea. You look dreadful."

Tony was momentarily taken aback. He had almost forgotten the dark circles under his eyes and the sallow complexion, or even the way his well tailored clothes hung off his too thin frame.

"It beats the alternative." He quipped.

"I thought you were dead," His father was immediately irritated. "Can't you take anything seriously?"

Tony's eyes darkened. He had taken his torture at Petrovich's hands very seriously indeed. For a moment he was tempted to share the details in vivid, technicolour with his father, to wipe that look of his face. But he knew he wouldn't. Things like that weren't for outsiders.

"Gibbs never did." He said instead.

"What?" David DiNozzo was confused.

"Gibbs never thought I was dead."

"Anthony," His father's voice was clear warning.

"My friends call me Tony, Dad."

"I'm not one of your college buddies, your mother and I christened you Anthony," David DiNozzo's tone was matter of fact. "And I'd appreciate it if you would remember that I prefer to be called father or sir. "

"You know something, Dad," Tony's tone was tight. "You really need to watch Indiana Jones and the last Crusade."

"What possible interest would I have in an action movie?" His father dismissed that. "Now, I have arranged for you to be admitted to an excellent facility in Geneva. Everything is in place. They are expecting us tomorrow."

"That might be a problem," Tony observed wryly. "They let dead people fly, Boss?"

"Only if you want to go a box in the hold," Gibbs' voice retorted dryly. "We're on the clock here, Tony."

"I just need a minute, Boss."

"All my life I have never called another man, Boss. By the time I was your age, I was Director of my own company." David DiNozzo said stiffly.

"I ever tell you about my grandfather, Boss?" Tony asked conversationally. "He was an immigrant. He arrived in this country with nothing more than the shirt on his back. By the time he died, he had a multi million dollar company for his son to inherit."

"That inheritance paid for your education, not to mention all those extras, sports tuition, piano lessons, and ballroom dancing."

"You paid for me to do the things you wanted me to do, so I could meet the people you wanted me to meet," Tony retorted. "What about, when I wanted to learn to sail?"

"People like us, don't learn to sail. We pay others to crew for us."

"I stopped being people like you when I was twelve, remember?"

Gibbs' head came up sharply. Tony's tone was soft with venom. He stepped forward. He could care less about David DiNozzo but, Tony didn't need this right now.

"Easy." He murmured.

Tony took a steadying breath, forcing himself to relax.

"I'm good, Boss."

Gibbs nodded briefly and stepped back. David DiNozzo looked between the two of them, aware that he had missed something but, clearly not sure exactly what.

"I'm not going to Geneva, or anywhere else you can think of," Tony's voice was calm but resolute. "I don't need the towelling bathrobes, the spa treatments or the manicured lawns. I just need to be with people who understand what I'm going through."


	16. Chapter 16

Tony wasn't exactly surprised when his father simply shook his head. David DiNozzo wasn't a man who was used to having his wishes countermanded.

"Anthony, I only wish it were that simple but, you've been through a dreadful experience. You're going to need weeks, maybe even months, of specialist care."

"Dad," Tony sighed. Growing up, one thing he could never fault his father for was that David DiNozzo had always ensured that his son had the best money that could buy. The only thing he had ever lacked was his time and attention. "Gibbs, has it covered, right Boss?"

"Uh huh."

Gibbs hadn't discussed his plans with Tony. It was possible that Ducky had mentioned something. More likely DiNozzo just knew.

"I'm sure that's very admirable," David DiNozzo coughed. "But you can't expect your employers to take care of this."

"Gibbs isn't just my Boss, he's my friend," Tony looked him in the eyes. "And a better father to me that you have ever been."

Gibbs kept his face expressionless as David DiNozzo shot a venomous glance in his direction. Tony needed to fight this battle for himself.

"Just because I didn't coddle you like your mother did." David DiNozzo scoffed. "And if I wasn't around as much as you wanted, I was working hard to make DiNozzo Enterprises a force to be reckoned with. You never did understand that."

"No," Tony's eyes were distant and Gibbs' knew he was weighing up the hopes and expectations of a small child who wanted his father to play ball with him, or visit with him in the Hospital, against the acquisition of another few hundred thousand dollars. "I still don't."

"Anthony .."

"Go home, Dad," Tony sighed. He sounded incredibly weary. "I'll have my lawyer transfer the shares to your name. You have a lot of good people working for you. I don't want to see them or their families on unemployment."

"You would do that?" David DiNozzo looked surprised.

Tony didn't answer. Gibbs knew that, over the years, Tony had sometimes considered calling his father. He had turned a blind eye to the fact that the younger man had used Federal resources to ensure he always had a current number for him. He remembered when Tony had made senior field agent, he had spent most of the day, looking at his phone, only to finally dial the first few numbers and then click it sharply shut, with a hollow look in his eyes. Until today, he'd still harboured the hope that, eventually, he might actually do something to make the man proud of him.

Watching him let go of that was painful.

David DiNozzo regarded his son for a long moment. Gibbs very much doubted that the two men would ever meet again.

"Thank you, Tony."

His senior friend agent managed a small smile for the olive branch but Gibbs knew that it was far too little, much too late. If Tony had a weakness it was that he needed people, needed the support and care and encouragement they provided. He reciprocated ten-fold, often taking care of other people's needs before they even realised what it was they needed. But without a steadying hand, and frequent reminders that he was loved and wanted and missed, he could loose himself.

"DiNozzo, anytime today," Gibbs drawled, knowing that what his Agent needed right now was something to focus on. "We still have a case to tie up."

"On it, Boss."

The slightest hint of movement caught Gibbs' eyes behind Tony's shoulder. He looked up to glimpse a dark figure on the balcony, mostly hidden by a supporting pillar. He was already pulling his gun as he shouted.

"Sniper."

Acting on instinct, Tony grabbed his father and pulled them both down to the floor but the sound of a rifle shot and the smell of blood in the air allowed Gibbs to take little satisfaction in the way Sergi's body slumped lifelessly, one arm hanging down through the art deco railing.

"Ziva!"

"I'm on it." By the sound of her voice, Ziva was already moving.

Putting his Sig away, Gibbs crouched down beside his Agent who was gingerly rising to a sitting position.

"He's been hit," David DiNozzo turned to Gibbs with an anxious expression, his face pale. "He's bleeding."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Even as he spoke, Gibbs was assessing his Agent, who was pressing his hand to his arm, blood seeping gently through his fingers. He relaxed slightly as he saw the rueful grin, DiNozzo managed.

"He missed me by a mile, Boss, I think I must have wrecked your Doctoring, when I took a dive."

"Sure beats a bullet," Gibbs put a hand under his good shoulder and helped him to his feet, draping his arm around his shoulders so he could support him, as Tony concentrated on keeping pressure on the wound. "You're still getting it looked at."

"How can you be so calm about this?" He heard David DiNozzo demanding of his son as he followed along on the other side, down the hallway back to their suite. "You've just been shot at."

"Dad, I've been in law enforcement for years. This isn't the first time I've been shot at. And usually, they don't miss."

"They don't?"

"I've been shot, stabbed, drugged, kidnapped, more than once, infected with pneumonic plague and one time, I broke my pinkie finger when some slime ball stamped on my hand."

"You're exaggerating." His father scoffed but Gibbs noted he seemed a little less sure of himself.

"Hardly," He put in dryly. "He forgot to mention he was hanging off a bridge at the time."

"I didn't know." David DiNozzo sounded slightly stunned.

"How could you?" Tony bit back a wince as Gibbs eased him into a chair. "You cut me out of your life."

"I could say the same thing. You never call. You never come home. I invite you to my weddings, you never show."

"You don't invite me, Dad," Tony corrected. "You have your secretary mail shot me along with all the other guests."

The sound of footsteps running along the hallway brought Gibbs head up sharply, his hand going to his Sig, only to relax as McGee appeared.

"Sergi's dead, Boss. Ducky's doing the preliminary now, he'll take custody of the body," McGee looked around the room. "Wow, this is nice."

"Glad you think so, McGee," Gibbs pulled out his cell. "You're paying for it."

To his relief Abrahams answered on the second ring. With Mallard busy, the ex-Army medic was the only Doc he would trust with DiNozzo right now. And he was determined to keep him out of the Hospital if he could.

"Hey, Doc. Think you could make a house call?"

As he briefly outlined the nature of Tony's injury, he listened with amusement to the sotto voice exchange between his Agents.

"This is my punishment for not wearing my back up, isn't it?" McGee was sighing.

"Suck it up, Probie." Tony advised him, without malice, it wasn't as if he hadn't experienced his own share of Gibbs' unorthodox disciplinary actions. "It could have been worse. Remember, that time he made you listen to the collected works of Donny Osmond?"

"He said that was evidence!"

"Evidence that you'd screwed up." Tony agreed.

"Its good to see you feeling better," McGee said with total sincerity. "It wasn't the same without you."

"Thanks, Tim," Tony made a face. "I don't think I'm going to be able to get a refund on this suit though."

"I don't care about the suit Tony. I'm just glad you're alright."

"That makes two of us, Probie." Tony smiled wearily.

"Please tell me he is still alive," Ziva said as she entered the room. "Black is not a good colour for me and I have already burned the jacket I wore to his memorial service."

"The one with the little buttons?" Tony pouted. "I liked that. It made you look like a really high class dominatrix."

"Tony, only you would be thinking about such things when watching your own memorial service." Ziva retorted.

"Ziva, take him into the other room and debrief him," Gibbs nodded at the elder DiNozzo as he crouched down to get a better look at Tony's arm, noting the way the younger man was breathing, low and shallow. "McGee, go escort Abrahams up here."

"It's OK, Boss." Tony reassured him quietly. "Its doesn't hurt that bad."

"You must be loosing a lot of blood to think you can start lying to me." Gibbs chided, peeling away Tony's bloodstained fingers and replacing them with his own, sure, grip. They both knew neither was talking about the wound.

"Can we not talk about my father right now?" Tony asked, a definite tremor in his voice.

Gibbs was reminded that they had other concerns than his dammed father, the hole in his arm and one dead Russian bastard. DiNozzo was still a long way short of operational fitness. Still, he had held it together when it counted.

"You did good, Tony." Gibbs checked him lightly under the chin, with his other fingers.

"You proud of me, Boss?" Tony asked, not quite managing to pull off his usual smug teasing.

Gibbs reached out and Tony tensed in expectation of a head slap but instead, the ex-marine cupped a hand under his jaw, raising his chin a little so DiNozzo could see the utter sincerity in his eyes.

"Every dammed day, DiNozzo."

* * *

In the adjoining room, Ziva looked at David DiNozzo with cool dislike. The businessman met her gaze with a raised brow, which reminded her uncomfortably of Tony. She did not wish to see anything of her partner in this man.

"Should I call my lawyer?"

"This is not an interrogation," Ziva's tone made it sound as if she almost wished it was. "I simply need to ask you a few questions for our report."

"Your Agent Gibbs was there," DiNozzo shrugged. "I don't know what else I can add."

"First tell me what you remember from when you arrived at the restaurant."

David DiNozzo sighed but he began reciting the details as dispassionately as if he was delivering the quarterly reports to his boardroom. Ziva writing down his account without question or comment, until David DiNozzo got to the part where Gibbs had identified the sniper and came to a dead stop, his face going deathly pale.

"I was standing between Anthony and the sniper. If he hadn't pulled me to the ground, I could have been killed. My son saved my life."

"I wouldn't take that too personally," Ziva shrugged. "Tony's a Federal Agent. He puts his life at risk to save perfect strangers every single day."

"Are all you people like this?"

Ziva didn't pretend to mis-understand. "We like Tony. Apparently, you do not."

"I gave that boy everything growing up, a first rate education, nice houses, decent clothes, good food on the table."

"And between the boarding schools and the summer camps how often did you actually see you son? What Tony really wanted was your time and your attention. Not expensive material goods."

"Which is why he was more worried about the fact that he got blood on his Armarni suit than the gaping hole in his arm?" David DiNozzo enquired dryly.

"You taught him to value material goods," Ziva met his gaze. "Clearly, you did not teach him to value himself as highly."


	17. Chapter 17

Tony looked up as McGee led Abrahams into the room. Gibbs immediately straightened and began to update the Doc on his condition in a low, serious, voice. Tony was grateful beyond words that, up until now, he had managed to avoid any kind of medical treatment but, judging by the way his arm was throbbing, and the steely look in Gibbs' eyes, that was about to change.

He concentrated on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, barely noticing as Ziva and his father emerged from the other room and too preoccupied to take in the somewhat chastened expression on his father's face. He was _not _going to puke on the Persian rug.

"Alright," Ben Abrahams deliberately kept his tone calm and his movements steady as he pulled a chair across and sat down next to Tony. "Let's get a better look at this."

As Abrahams unwrapped the neat bandage and examined the wound, Tony forced himself to keep his breathing low and steady. This wasn't Petrovich, these were his friends, and this wasn't anything he hadn't done a thousand times before.

"You did a good job on this Gunny," Abrahams observed. "I'm amazed he hasn't popped these butterfly strips long before now."

"I've had some practise."

Gibbs comment was cryptic and Tony wasn't sure if he meant field dressings in general or patching him up in particular. Either way, just the sound of the ex-marine's voice was comforting, helping him to stay focused on the here and now.

"I came as soon as I could," Mallard hurried into the room. "Our Russian friend is on his way to the local morgue until our respective esteemed leaders can decide jurisdiction. Is Anthony, alright?"

"Well, he's alive." Abraham's expression was grave, as he stood aside and let the MD take a look at the wound.

"Oh my."

"Is it gonna need stitches, Duck?" Gibbs cut to the chase.

"Several, I should imagine. Which does pose rather a problem."

"If it's a question of money," David DiNozzo stepped forward. "I will gladly pay any bill."

"Mr DiNozzo, I realise that this may come as a shock to you but not all problems in this world can be solved simply by throwing money at them," Mallard looked at him. "Your relationship with your son being a prime example. However, returning out attention to more prosaic matters, if this wound were to be stitched it would be a rather lengthy procedure, requiring an injection of local aesthetic. Neither of which, given his recent experiences at Petrovich's hands do I think Anthony will especially welcome. "

They all looked at Tony. The younger man was pale but visibly determined.

"I don't need the shot, Doc. Just stitch it up, I'll hold still."

The drugs had been the worst part of the torture. Never knowing what he might have said or down, loosing control over his own actions, even with his friends around him, just the idea of getting a shot scared the hell out of him.

"You know it's going to hurt like hell?" Abrahams enquired.

"I can take it."

"Anthony, you are being ridiculous," David DiNozzo had spoken before he realised it. "There is no sense in being in pain if you don't have to. I'm sure Dr Abrahams here is perfectly competent to administer the required injection."

Tony looked at him, in surprise as he registered the real concern behind his father's words but he shook his head tightly, vetoing the idea. David DiNozzo suddenly felt at a loss. He had no idea what to say to his son that might change his mind.

"Take the shot, DiNozzo." Gibbs' voice ordered very softly.

"Boss." The word was a heartfelt plea.

David DiNozzo held his breath as Gibbs stepped up to his son's side, leaning down as he spoke for his ears only. He couldn't hear the words but he saw the moment Tony capitulated and Gibbs squeezed his shoulder in approval and support.

"Mr DiNozzo," Taking advantage of the fact that it would be rude to shake off a man of his advances years, Ducky took the businessman firmly by the arm. "Perhaps, we should step outside for a moment?"

As he was led from the room, David DiNozzo turned his head to see, Special Agent Gibbs take his son's hand and grip it firmly as Abrahams prepared the syringe. Tony looked up at him, with absolute trust.

"Boss, I can do this."

"Never said you couldn't DiNozzo."

Gibbs didn't let go.

* * *

As the morning winter light bled sluggishly through the drapes, Gibbs looked down fondly at his sleeping Agent. Now that the danger was past, Tony had finally let go and slept for almost fourteen hours. Sleep had softened the taunt lines in his face, although he still looked too pale and gaunt for Gibbs' liking.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up expecting room service. As much as he needed his rest, it was way past time Tony ate something. Gibbs had left the door ajar, so their knocking wouldn't wake DiNozzo. He had never been prouder of Tony than when he had marshalled his courage to take that shot but, the adrenalin and fear had taken its toll and there had been nightmares. He didn't want the younger man coming too with a start. He was surprised to see David DiNozzo hovering in the doorway. The man opened his mouth to say something, only to pause and frown when he saw what his son was holding.

"Is that a stuffed Hippo?"

"It's a long story." Gibbs tone indicated that he had no intention of telling it.

Pressing his lips together, David DiNozzo realised that the ex-marine was unshaven and still wearing the same clothes as the day before. The NCIS Agent had obviously been keeping a vigil at his son's bedside.

"Did he sleep well?"

"I took care of it."

In the ensuing silence the room service trolley arrived and the waiter began setting up the breakfast plates on the small table in the lounge room, for a long moment there was nothing but the soft sounds of clinking glass and tinkling silverware, mixed with Tony's breathing.

"Look," David DiNozzo swallowed hard. He had known this wasn't going to be easy but he hadn't imagined it would be this hard. "About before. I'm sorry. I thought I had already lost my son, if I lost the company as well then my whole life would have been for nothing. You have to see that. And I was angry at myself, for ignoring all his attempts at reconciliations."

"He actually called you?" Gibbs blinked. He'd been so sure DiNozzo had never picked up the phone.

"In the beginning," David DiNozzo qualified. "At the time, when he invited me to his graduation from Ohio State, or the Police Academy, I thought he was rubbing my nose in the fact that he had chosen to go his own way so I ignored his invitations. He wouldn't give up, though. He invited me to the celebrations when he made Detective and to all of his award presentations. I always told myself I was too busy but, part of me resented his success, I wanted him to fail and prove me right. Then, suddenly, not long after he started at NCIS, the calls stopped. At the time, I thought he had just given up and I rationalised to myself that he couldn't care all that much if he would give up so easily. Now, I realise that he had simply found what he needed."

Gibbs didn't deny it. They both knew it was true. Still, he wasn't about to let David DiNozzo off the hook that easily.

"He needed to know that someone was proud of him, he needed to know that he wasn't the worthless son, who would end up in the gutter, that you told him he was."

"I never meant that." David DiNozzo shook his head. "I was angry."

"You ever tell him that?" Gibbs challenged.

"Boss?" Tony's voice asked groggily.

"About time you finally woke up, DiNozzo," Gibbs was already crossing over to the bed, looking down at his Agent. "How are you doing?"

"Hungry." Tony stated firmly.

"I could call room service, get you a nice tofu wrap," Despite his deadpan manner, David DiNozo recognised that the ex-marine was teasing.

"If I wanted the food police, I would have called Ducky," He felt a small surge of pride as his son stood up for himself, gently putting aside the stuffed Hippo. "I smell bacon."

"That's mine," Gibbs countered, waiting a beat, before he added. "Got you the breakfast burritos."

"Always knew there was a reason I loved you, Boss." Tony said easily.

David DiNozzo's felt his heart constrict in his chest, he couldn't remember ever having a conversation with his son that would have allowed the boy to say those words. And now it was too late. As Gibbs moved towards the lounge room, to fetch a plate, he took in the man's grief stricken expression in a single glance. Inwardly he sighed. Tony had a lot of healing ahead of him it might just help to start by easing some of the hurt and tension with his father.

"_Talk_ to him." He jerked his head in Tony's direction.

Squaring his shoulders, David DiNozzo stepped up to his son's bedside, surprised by the suddenly wary look on the younger man's face, as Tony gingerly sat up and scrubbed the sleep away.

"Dad," The word was anything but welcoming. "What are you doing here?"

Mentally, David DiNozzo slapped himself. Of course, Tony would think that he had come to drag him off to Geneva. It wasn't as if he had a track record of taking his son's wishes into account.

"I cancelled the reservations in Geneva. I'm sure your Boss here knows what you need more than I do."

Part of him wanted Tony to protest but David DiNozzo knew that wasn't going to happen. He would have to settle for the gratitude he could see in his son's eyes as he spoke.

"Thank you."

David DiNozzo nodded and almost turned away but, memories of his own demanding father halted him in his tracks.

"I wanted to thank you, for saving my life. I know I haven't been any great shakes as a father and you're too old for that now but perhaps we could learn to be friends?"

His son looked at him for a long moment, as if weighing the truth of his words. When he spoke, it was without inflection but David DiNozzo knew it was a test.

"My friends like beer and watch sports."

"I could do that," he nodded. "I have a friend who is a Director of the New York Giants. You could come for the weekend. We could have one of the executive boxes."

"Washington Redskins, in the stands like normal people. You could come for the weekend." Tony countered.

A thin, amused, smile lit David DiNozzo's features."You know, it's a real shame you had no taste for business. You would have made one hell of a negotiator."

"He already is one hell of a negotiator," Gibbs spoke up, as he put a plate of food in Tony's lap and passed him a fork. "Not so long ago his negotiating skills saved the lives of a classroom of High School kids. And mine."

"Kinda puts closing a multi-million dollar deal in its place." David DiNozzo admitted. "I'm proud of you son. I guess you learnt a few tricks from your old man after all."

Tony smiled thinly. He had waited all his life to hear those words from his father and when they finally came he realised that they didn't mean nearly as much as he had expected. It wasn't David DiNozzo's lead he had been following when he had refused to order the kill shot on Cory Myers.

"Yeah, I did." He answered with total sincerity, knowing that Gibbs would understand his true meaning.

On an impulse Tony reached out and offered his father his hand, a gesture of equals, man to man. With only a slight tilt of his head, his father returned the gesture, his grip sure and firm.

"Since when did you start wearing jewellery?" His father frowned slightly at the heavy silver ID bracelet on his wrist.

"It was a gift." Tony hedged.

"Looks expensive," His father smiled. "Must be pretty serious. Does this I am finally going to get some grandchildren?"

Tony was determined not to look at Gibbs, although he knew his face was flaming and the ex-marine's snort of amusement wasn't helping his composure. It took all of his skills as an undercover agent to keep his expression schooled.

"Don't you have a plane to catch, Dad?"

"Fair enough," His father backed off. If this relationship were going to work it would have to be on Tony's terms. "Be well, son."

Gibbs waited, until Tony's eyes had tracked his father out of the room, before slapping him lightly on the back of the head.

"Eat something," He ordered. "We need to get moving. We've got a long drive ahead."


	18. Chapter 18

AN - Almost done with this. One more chapter after this. Then I have a new story all written and ready to go.

* * *

Gibbs watched from the bedroom door as Tony carefully placed his last few items into his holdall, ready to chastise, if the younger man even though about picking anything up with his freshly stitched arm.

"You know, you could have got coffee," Tony commented, as he went into the bathroom, returning with a hand full of products and a toothbrush clenched between his teeth. "I've been packing for myself since I was twelve."

"Not with a busted arm."

"I broke my collar bone when I was fifteen," Tony reflected. "Polo's a very dangerous sport."

"That the summer you spent in Argentina?"

"Gibbs, no-one's background checks are that thorough." Tony protested. His father had said it was a chance to practise his high school Spanish. Tony had seen it as a way of removing him from the picture while he courted his next wife.

"Mine are."

Tony stilled for a second, before finishing putting in his toiletry items and zipping up his bag. In truth, he doubted there was anything Gibbs didn't know about him by now and yet the man still loved him. That was hugely reassuring. He picked up Bert only to pause as he realised he wouldn't fit in the bag. Gibbs would kill him if he tucked the stuffed animal under his injured arm and Abby would kill him if he left him behind.

"Give me that." Gibbs ordered, snatching the Hippo out of his hands and tucking it under his own arm.

"So, how far is this place?" Tony asked, as he zipped up his bag and picking it up carefully with his good arm,

"About a three hour drive from here," With the Hippo still firmly under one arm, Gibbs collected his own bag from the lounge room and led the way out of the Hotel suite. "We'll get there in time for supper. Priscilla makes a mean peach pie."

"You know her." Tony realised, as they stepped into the elevator.

"I'd used her a few times over the years," Gibbs admitted. He didn't want DiNozzo thinking that he was entrusting his welfare to some quack. "After Shannon and Kelly were killed she came looking for me, wouldn't take no for an answer. She put me back together."

Tony was quiet for a moment as he digested that. According to McGee's research this Priscilla Andrews was the best there was but she'd retired last year. She must be seeing him as a favour to Gibbs. That told Tony more than any words how much his Boss wanted him to get well. He wondered if he ever could.

"What?" Gibbs asked, without seeming to look at him.

"Do you think she can do the same for me?"

"Something like this, gotta leave a scar," Gibbs wasn't about to lie to him. "But then you know that."

"Not my first rodeo." Tony agreed.

"You'll get there. Priscilla knows what she's doing." Everything about Gibbs tone and body language said that he understood. He knew how hard this was.

"I hope so." He quipped softly, his tone tinged with dread of the ordeal ahead. No matter how good this lady was, sitting there and spilling out his guts was never going to be a fun date.

Gibbs looked across at the thin planes of his drawn features. This thing had been hard, on the both of them. He remembered how Shannon had teased him in the early days of their courtship that men were incapable of showing emotion unless it was related to sports or sex. He had shaken his head.

"_A man should never be ashamed of loving his family."_

There was a second category too. That bond forged under fire when you held a wounded comrade in your arms, murmuring encouragement, hoping that they could hold on until help arrived. Knowing they might not.

_How many times had that comrade been DiNozzo? Too many._

He timed it exactly, waiting until the elevator had almost come to rest.

"You remember what you said on that tape?"

"Not all of it," Tony admitted slowly, his eyes turning a shade wary. "Boss, I was drugged up to the eyeballs, horrifically tortured you can't hold me responsible for any of the things I said."

"You saying you _don't _love me, DiNozzo?"

"Um," Tony hedged, just as the car settled to a halt and the doors slid smoothly open. "Of course not, Boss."

"Good," Gibbs' nod was decisive, as he strode out of the elevator. "Because the feeling is mutual."

He didn't look back to see the grin that he just _knew_ was spreading across DiNozzo's face. Nor did he react to the hurrying foot steps, or the smug voice at his shoulder.

"Is this a good time to ask for a Ferrari?"

* * *

They said goodbye to the others in the parking lot. To Tony's delight, McGee produced a new lap top, pre-loaded with the hottest new game on the market, as well as all his old favourites. 

"That's not all," McGee looked around and, taking advantage of the fact that Gibbs was loading the bags into the trunk said sotto voice. "I also downloaded details on all the cases you missed. They're in the file marked "Trivial Pursuits."

McGee knew Gibbs would kill both of them if he found out. Tony was under strict orders not to even think about work until the Boss said otherwise but Tim knew his friend hated being out of the loop and would go stir crazy with nothing to focus his mind on except crosswords for weeks to come.

"Thanks Tim," Tony's genuine gratitude for the risk he'd taken showed through in the rare use of his first name. "We'll make an Agent out of you yet."

"Weeks on end alone with Gibbs in the woods, maybe we'll make a boy scout of you." He retorted in kind.

He wasn't prepared for the way Tony's jaw dropped. As the man stared at him in shock he suddenly felt exactly like that time he'd accidently let on to Gibbs about his surprise birthday party.

"Wait a minute," Tony frowned. "Gibbs is just driving me up there, introducing me to Priscilla and coming back to work, right?"

"Um, I don't think so," McGee tried to salvage something. "It's been a pretty rough time since you disappeared and the new guy didn't work out so well, maybe now you're back Gibbs is just going to take a vacation."

"Gibbs never takes vacations," Tony vetoed that. "How much time did he put in for?"

"Not nearly long enough if you two don't stop yakking."

They both turned to see Gibbs standing behind them, with Ducky at his shoulder. The marine looked decidedly pissed. Tony went for optimism and pasted on his best smile.

"Boss, didn't see you there."

"No kidding, DiNozzo," Holding out his hand he gestured towards the laptop. "Give."

McGee swallowed hard. There was no way he wanted to argue with the ex-marine when he was wearing that expression but, Tony, as usual, had other ideas.

"Aw come on, Gibbs," He clutched the laptop protectively to his chest. "Isn't it bad enough that you're taking me to a place without Pizza delivery or cable TV? And Abby's going to be traumatised already that we're going to have to IM over dialup, I promise, I won't even look at the case files."

"There are case files on there?" Gibbs shot McGee a look of death.

"Now, Anthony," Ducky's expression was grave. "Remember what I said. These things take time. If you try to push yourself to recover too quickly, you'll only make things harder for yourself in the long run. You have to be patient."

"I can be patient." Tony defended himself.

"Yes, when you are staking out a suspect or solving a crime," Ducky agreed. "You are rather harder on yourself. Or have you forgotten the time you tried to chase down a suspect on a broken ankle?"

"Fine," Tony handed over the laptop with a decided scowl. "I'll just die of boredom instead."

"You're not gonna have time to get bored, DiNozzo," Gibbs smirked. "Trust me."

"Boss?" He demanded a hint of anxiety in his voice.

Gibbs simply gave the laptop to Ducky, clapped him on the shoulder by way of farewell and walked around the car to climb into the driving seat. "Get your ass in gear, DiNozzo."

Tony was almost certain that when Ziva went to kiss him full on the mouth, she was just yanking his chain a little. Still, never one to waste an opportunity, he gave it his best shot, so that when they pulled apart they were both a little flushed.

"Something to remember me by?" He teased.

"Something, so you do not forget what you have to come home to," Ziva patted his cheek, as her other hand snaked back out from under his jacket leaving something in his inside pocket.

"That's not a condom, is it?"

"Case files," Ziva corrected. "I knew Gibbs would never go for the lap top and I know Ms Andrews has a computer so .."

Tony leant in to whisper in her ear and she was sure he was going to say something crass or sexist. Instead his warm breath ghosted across her ear as he spoke with utter sincerity.

"Thank you. Now I might not have to kill Gibbs and feed him to the bears."

Pulling back with a grin he dropped a genuinely affectionate kiss on her cheek, turning away at Gibbs' bellow to get into the car, so that he completely missed the look of pleased surprise on her face as she gently brushed her fingers across the spot his lips had touched.

"Do you really think he's going to be able to come back?" McGee was doubtful as they watched the car drive away. "I mean, I don't think I would be doing so well if I was him, not after everything he's been through but, the standards for active field duty are pretty high."

"He'll be back," Ziva had no doubt. "Gibbs will make sure of it."


	19. Chapter 19

Tony slept most of the way to Priscilla's and for once Gibbs drove with a degree of consideration, only jerking him awake with a wry smile as they pulled up in front of the house.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah, Boss. Thanks for asking."

Rubbing at his eyes Tony looked around. The neat wooden house with carefully tended flowerbeds and a large vegetable garden was set on the shores of a small bay. But what really caught Tony's attention was the small red barn on the left hand side, next to a large paddock.

"Horses?"

There was a hint of old longing in Tony's voice that made Gibbs smile. By choice or necessity the younger man had thrown off most of the trappings of his privileged childhood. He'd bet his pension that most of the cops DiNozzo had worked with had never seen a horse outside of a racetrack.

"Jethro!" Priscilla's musical voice greeted him. "It's about time you got here. How are you?"

Getting out of the car he went over and embraced her, feeling DiNozzo hanging back with uncharacteristic shyness as he watched the two friends re-unite. Gibbs purposefully ignored him as he tipped his head on one side.

"How's that roof of your holding up?"

"Lost a couple of tiles in the last storm," Priscilla smiled. "But it can wait until you've washed up and had something to eat. Supper will be ready in about half an hour."

"Tools in the usual place?" Gibbs was already walking away in the direction of a small shack, pausing only to toss over his shoulder. "DiNozzo, you behave."

Left alone, Tony felt suddenly bereft, like a child on his first day at Kindergarten. Priscilla was nothing like he had expected. She must have been at least sixty, her steely white hair tucked neatly into a bun, contrasting with her apple red cheeks and weather beaten skin, wearing a checked cotton work shirt tucked into blue jeans with the most intense green eyes he had ever seen.

"Do you make a habit of not behaving?" She smiled.

"Not a habit," He smiling with the easy charm that meant nothing. "More of an occupational hazard."

"Jethro's not the easiest person to work with, if you can get on his good side, you must be doing something right."

"Gibbs has a good side? Why didn't anyone mention this before?"

She figured that smile might not be his best and the light tone was possibility a little too forced to those who knew him well. But if she hadn't known better she would never have guessed the horrors he was hiding. She hated it when Gibbs was right.

"_He won't make it easy for you." The ex-marine had warned, when he had called from the Hospital. "He's too used to hiding what he really feels."_

"_Sounds like a certain ex-gunny, I know."_

_Gibbs snorted. "You think I was bad? At least I recognised a good thing when I saw it, DiNozzo won't. He's going to go out of his way to make this difficult for you."_

"_He's agreed to come, that's a start, surely?"_

"_He wants his life back," Gibbs acknowledged. "And he trusts me. But you sit him down on a couch and he'll tell you everything under the sun, except the things you need to hear."_

"_So, what do you suggest? You can't just order him to trust me."_

"_Why not?" Gibbs allowed himself a tight grin. "I ordered him to live once and look how well that turned out."_

"_Jethro."_

"_You still have that auction down the road twice a week?"_

"_Yes? Why? You ready to trade that boat of yours in for a horse?"_

"_Nope. But I do want you to buy something for me."_

Bringing herself back to the present she wondered if Tony had any idea of the lengths, not to mention time and expense, that Gibbs had gone to, to ensure that he got well.

"You must know how must he cares about you," She fished. "He would never have brought you here if he didn't.

"I know," Tony looked over in the direction Gibbs had taken the man was already pulling out tools and a ladder as he set to on his self-appointed task. "Do you think you could help him? He's been blaming himself because Petrovich took me on his watch."

She smiled, she was beginning to see why Jethro liked this one so much, he could probably see a lot of himself in the younger man. "All Jethro needs is for you to get well, Tony," She paused, reflecting. "That and a good kick in the pants now and again."

"So you have worked with him before." Tony felt an appreciative answering grin spread across his face. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"I was just about to give the horses their evening feed. Would you like to walk over with me?" Priscilla asked.

"I could give you a hand, if you like?"

"Nice try," Priscilla shook her head. "Jethro warned me about your arm. You pull those stitches and he'll kill both of us."

"Just the one hand," Tony promised, waggling his good arm. "Scout's honour."

"Somehow Tony, I don't see you as a scout."

They worked with easy accord, filing water buckets and topping up feed bins. As he moved around the horses, rubbing a nose here and easing a flank aside there, he felt a sense of peace and homecoming. Sometimes, as a child, he had slept in the stables. The horses had always made him feel like he wasn't alone. When he got to the last stall he paused in shock. The bay gave an arrogant flick of its head, rearing back as it bared its teeth. The display of bravado doing nothing to disguise the ribs sticking out of its thin sides or the numerous scars and sores across its body.

"I bought her at the auction yesterday," Priscilla's voice was soft beside him. "So, far all I've managed to do is get her to drink a little water and take a few mouthfuls of food. She can't bear to be touched. When the vet wanted to trim her hooves and treat that sore on her back we had to knock her right out."

"That's a shame," Tony's tone and expression were tight as he took in the graceful neck and elegant lines. "She's a genuine thoroughbred. Some people shouldn't be allowed to raise horses."

When he simply turned and walked away she felt a spark of disappointment. He put the bucket carefully back in its place and waited for her to join him. Supper wasn't much better. Tony talked a great deal, while saying nothing at all, making quite sure there were no awkward pauses where she might try to insert a more personal question. As they cleared the dishes, she noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and the way his hands trembled as he fought to keep of the pretence of being just fine.

"Hit the rack, DiNozzo," she wasn't surprised to hear Gibs' gruff order. "We'll finish up here."

"Boss," Tony hesitated, looking from one to another. Clearly he wasn't thrilled with the idea of leaving them alone to talk about him. "I'm fine."

"Tony, I told you to go to bed." Gibbs insisted, a little impatient now.

"I'm not five, Gibbs." Tony snapped.

"No, you're a Federal Agent and if you want to return to operational fitness you will do exactly as I say, when I say it, without question," Gibbs barked. "Is that clear, Special Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony's expression darkened and there was suppressed anger as he straightened slightly and ground out a terse. "Crystal."

"It'd better be," Gibbs wasn't giving any ground. "Now say goodnight and get you ass upstairs."

"Good night, Ms Walters, thank you for dinner. The pie was delicious." Somehow DiNozzo managed to sound both polite and sincere from between gritted teeth, before he turned the full force of his glare on his Boss. "Gibbs."

"Sleep well, Tony." Priscilla smiled.

"G'night, Honey Buns," Gibbs called after him, biting back a tight grin as DiNozzo flipped him off.

"I hope you know what you're doing Jethro Gibbs," Priscilla's tone was disapproving, as she loaded the dishes into the sink. "You said yourself he's had a hard time of things."

"All the more reason to treat him as normally as possible," To her surprise Gibbs voice was totally devoid of anger. Only a faint sadness coloured his tone as he continued. "Trust me, Priscilla, Tony needs to know where he stands, he needs to know I won't back down and he needs to know I don't think of him as some delicate flower."

"So, you have thought about this. I'm impressed. Its just a shame your plan with the horse didn't work out."

"Who says it hasn't?"

"Jethro, he just took one look at the poor creature and walked away. Maybe, reminding him of what its like to be tortured and abused isn't the best idea."

"You think?" Gibbs looked smug. "Tony does best when he has something else to look out for. It stops him focusing too much on himself. Want to take one guess where he is, right now?"

"He went to his room?" Priscilla furrowed her brow as the ex-marine shook his head. "He's gone to the stables?"

"Crossed the yard two minutes ago," Gibbs made a face. "I'd bawl him out for being sloppy. He knows how to move position without being noticed but, you're right, he has had a hard time of things of late."

"You goaded him deliberately," Priscilla realised. "You really are a bastard, Gibbs."

"Whatever works." He tilted his head.

* * *

Six months later, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo looked around the small gathering of NCIS Agents with a sense of unreality. It had been a long road to get back to operational fitness. McGee, Ziva and Abby had all taken time out to visit with him. Both Ducky and Abrahams had come for the occasional weekend. And, as the time passed he had recognised that Priscilla was exactly what he needed. 

It had taken a lot longer than Tony wanted. But Gibbs had never let him lose heart. Providing a comforting presence or a kick up the rear as required. He'd been back on active duty for three months now and out in the field for two, it was almost as if the whole nightmare had never even happened.

Almost.

"Wow. Gibbs is here." Abby's voice drew him back to the present.

The awareness rippled through the room, heads turning and some staring opening as the silver haired ex-Marine settled himself against the back wall, his arms crossed and his gaze implacable.

"I thought you said Gibbs never came to these award ceremonies." Ziva questioned.

"He doesn't." McGee frowned.

"Well, apparently now he does." Ziva pointed out.

"Gibbs has been winning these things for years," Tony narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "He's never shown up to accept one before. Something's going on."

"Why don't you ask him?" Ziva challenged.

"I would," Tony smiled, as realisation dawned. "But I already know the answer."

Leaving the rest of his team, he made his way towards his Boss, carefully threading his way through the small crowd of Agents until he reached Gibbs' side. Leaning against the wall next to him, he kept his eyes on the small dais as he spoke sotto voice.

"Boss."

"DiNozzo." Gibbs acknowledged in kind, without looking at him.

With a grin, Tony reached over and carefully unfastened the silver identity bracelet he had been wearing all these weeks. Holding it up, he dropped it gently into Gibbs hand.

"I think you can have this back now."

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" Gibbs' tone was amused.

"No," Tony grinned tightly. "Of you. Thanks for coming, Boss."

Tony knew there was no way Gibbs would have turned up to one of these award ceremonies his own behalf. There was only one possible explanation for his presence here tonight.

"Don't get too grateful," Gibbs retorted with an easy grin. "You're buying dinner."

On the small dais the Director paused for a moment, after her speech about duty and sacrifice, to achieve the appropriate dramatic effect.

"This year the award for Agent of the Year goes to ... Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

* * *

AN - Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Hope you enjoyed. New story, "Not a Death Story." based on Gibbs' comments in the S1 episode "Marine Down" where Tony was mistakenly assumed to have been killed in a car crash up as soon as I can get FF. net to upload it! 


End file.
